The Rose and the Crown: The Realm's Delight
by ScipioSmith
Summary: Sequel to the Rose and the Crown: Book 1. Cinderella has defeated her enemies and secured her position as Princess of Armorique, but an unexpected but welcome discovery threatens to upend Cinderella & Eugene's lives once more, even as Cinderella's continued political interventions court controversy amongst the population and Grace plots her revenge from the shadows.
1. Glad Tidings and Misgivings

Glad Tidings and Misgivings

Eugene, Prince of Armorique, paced up and down outside of his princess bed chamber and waited for news.

Cinderella was in there with the doctor right now.

Eugene clenched his fists together as he waited for the floor to open. He had agreed to wait outside because he didn't trust himself not to make a scene or doing something that would distract the doctor at a crucial time. However, having made that agreement he found himself unable to think of anything but when the door would finally open and be wotluld find out what was wrong with his wife.

Actually, that was an untruth, one other thought consumed his mind: that for Cinderella's sake he should have acted sooner.

It had been about a month since he returned home from America and the war in Louisiana, and when he returned he had found Cinderella just as he remembered, in body and in health at least. He knew that she been I'll, seriously so; Etienne had told him as much, just as he had told Eugene about the hair-raising struggles that Cinderella had enduredcin his absence. But when he finally came home, when he saw her again and she rushed to embrace him at the docks she looked so healthy and so beautiful in the flower of her health that it was easy to believe that it was all passed and done with and that they could resume without difficulty the happiness they had possessed before.

He had wanted to believe that. Before he left he and Cinderella had been making progress towards a better marriage - which was to say that Eugene had been making progress towards treating Cinderella with a greater degree of respect than he had accorded her at times - and he had been unwilling to jeopardise that progress by mothering her. And so, although for the last week Cinderella had seemed constantly tired and short of breath he had allowed himself to believe her when she told him it was fine and she just needed a little more sleep. When she had vomited up her dinner the day before yesterday he had allowed himself to believe her when she said it was just something that had disagreed with her. Because she said she was fine he had not looked to closely at her discomfort.

It wasn't until Cinderella had fainted today that Eugene had remembered - had allowed himself to remember - that Cinderella was appalling at taking care of herself. From what he understood of her behaviour in his absence she had made her illness much worse by continuing to work through it until she physically could not do so.

God grant that things had not gotten so far yet.

Her fainting had galvanised him. He had Cinderella brought upstairs and forbidden her to get out of bed until she had seen the doctor. He also meant to ensure that she followed the doctor's instructions exactly.

He hope he ildid, anyway. He had always struggled to stand firm against the women he loved. When he married Cinderella he had vowed that he would be firmer with her than he had been with Katherine, for her own good...but he had tied that position into his patronising treatment of Cinderella more general and the fall of the second had brought down the first.

But he could not lose her. If Cinderella were taken from him, as Katherine had been, then...he didn't know if he could survive the blow.

He loved her. It might not always seem that way, given the way that he sometimes behaved, but he loved her. He had become a better man for knowing her, more able to compromise and practice kindness. He could never have achieved his triumph in America without her example.

He couldn't lose her. Eugene closed his eyes and tried to pray to God not to take his wife from him.

On the level below he could hear the others rustling as they, too, waited for news. His father was there, and Eugene's friend Etienne Gerard. Mostly, though, they were Cinderella's friends and companions: Marinette Gerard and Angelique Bonnet her ladies-in-waiting; Marie-Elise Duchamp her lady's maid; Jean Taurillion her guard; Princess Frederica of Normandie and Lucrecia Adessi, Cinderella's dresssmaker. They were all below, all waiting for news. None of them disturbed him up here, thankfully. Etienne had always been able to recognise when he neither wanted nor needed company.

Eugene furrowed his brow as he tried to pray, but he was interrupted by the sound of Cinderella's bedroom door opening. He whirled around to see Doctor Valons emerging from out of the room, black bag in hand.

"Well?" Eugene demanded. "Will Cinderella be alright? What's the matter with her? What can I do?"

The doctor's expression was inscrutable. He blinked owlishly behind his spectacles. "Her highness asked, practically commanded me, to allow her to tell you herself. You can go in, the princess is expecting you, your highness."

Eugene's frown had something of a scowl to it, but nevertheless he brushed past the doctor and strode into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Cinderella was sitting up in bed, her strawberry blonde hair falling softly down upon her shoulders. She did not look I'll. In fact, as strange as it sounded, she looked happy. Overjoyed, in fact. Her blue eyes sparkled and she had such a smile upon her face that...He couldn't fathom it.

"Cinderella," he said softly as he sat down on the bed beside her, taking her hands in his grasp. "What did you want to tell me? What did the doctor say?"

"Oh, Eugene," Cinderella sighed, and her eyes twinkled merrily. "I'm with child."

Eugene froze. He felt as though he could feel himself turning to ice. "You...you're pregnant?"

Cinderella nodded. "About four weeks, the doctor says. When you came home."

Yes, Eugene thought with a sickly feeling in his stomach, that made sense. Fortunately for Cinderella most of those who might have tried to claim that some other man was the father had already been dealt with.

That was the only good thing he could see in this situation.

Eugene got up without another word, turning away from Cinderella and walking over to the far well of the bedroom. He leaned against it, breathing heavily, saying nothing.

"Eugene?" Cinderella called out to him. He didn't reply.

"Eugene, please don't be upset; this is the most wonderful news."

"Is it?" he asked, as he turned to face her.

"Yes," Cinderella said insistently. One hand went to her stomach, Eugene couldn't tell if she'd done it deliberately or not. Her smile returned as she lowered her eyes. "I have our baby inside me."

"My children kill," Eugene said, in a hoarse voice.

Cinderella's gaze snapped up at him. Now she understood, he could see it in her eyes. "I very much hope you've never said that in front of Philippe."

"Of course not."

Cinderella frowned at him regardless. "I have to say I think you're being ridiculous. I thought you'd be happy."

"I'm too worried to be happy, worried about you."

"I know, and it's very sweet of you," Cinderella said. "But I'm not Katherine. I'm going to have the best care in Armorique to help me bring our child into the world."

She had a point there. Katherine had been too concerned with maintaining the secrecy of their relationship, to which end she refused the royal physician or anyone else Eugene might have sent for in favour of a local quack whose main virtue was low fees. There was no chance of that happening here.

But still, Katherine had also not expected any trouble. She too had been delighted...and her delight had been the death of her.

"Eugene, please come back. Please sit down," Cinderella urged, gesturing to the spot he had recently vacated

He returned, and once more sat down on the bed in front of her.

This time it was Cinderella who took his hand. "What will it take to make you as happy about this as I am? What can I do to make you see that you don't have to worry about me?"

"I do have to worry about you, that's the problem," Eugene replied. He reached up and ran his fingers through her hair. "But, if you really want to ease my concerns, there are a few things that you can do."

Her eyebrows rose as she gave him a look that suggested she wa wondering what she'd agreed to. "Go on."

"You, darling, are taking care of yourself from now on," Eugene informed her. "No more half-starving yourself, no more ignoring when you feel unwell, no more working yourself to the bone. You're going to do what the doctor tells you and you are going to take care."

"I'm not a toddler," Cinderella said.

"No, but you take less care of yourself than anyone I know and I'm not going to stand by and let it happen any longer, not in your condition. And you're going to take on some new ladies-in-waiting; two isn't enough to properly take care of you."

"I used to have more," Cinderella reminded him.

"I know," Eugene said. "Hopefully things will be different now."

Cinderella looked up at him. "Very well, now are you happy?"

"I...am less fretful than I was."

"Eugene," Cinderella scolded him. " I'm carrying our child. Can't you please be glad of it, if only for my sake?"

Eugene looked at her, and forced himself to smile. "Congratulations, darling; this is wonderful news." He leaned forwards and kissed her.

"It is," she said. "It truly is. I promise, Eugene, you'll see: everything is going to be perfect. I'll have this child, our child, and we'll all be happy, together. Now, Will you please go downstairs and tell all our friends that there's nothing to worry about, but only good news to share?"

"Of course I will," Eugene said, standing up. "If nothing else, Father's joy will surely outweigh any misgivings I might have."

But that did not mean that his misgivings were gone.

* * *

Cinderella barely noticed anything going on around her as Duchamp helped her to dress. She didn't really see her reflection in the mirror; she didn't really feel the dress being fastened up her back. Even the aches and pains that had brought the doctor to her: the swollen, prickly tenderness of her breasts, the bloated feeling in her stomach, the dizziness, somehow it didn't seem to matter any more, as though it had temporarily lost all its power to affect her. Cinderella's thoughts and mental gaze were all turned inwards.

She was having a baby. She was having Eugene's baby. She was going to be a mother.

It was so wonderful, and yet so terrifying at the same time.

Wonderful, of course, because this was her baby, her child, a new life being carried inside her, waiting to come out. A child, her child. The thought of it just filled Cinderella with such giddiness that it was as if she were going to float off the floor such was her bliss. She wanted this. She had dreamed of this for years: a family of her own, a husband who loved her and a child to love. The happiness that she had shared with her mother and father before death had taken them both away from her. Though her new family would never enjoy the quiet domestic bliss that Cinderella's parents had enjoyed, nlthere were compensations for that in the ample opportunities to help others in need of assistance.

She had been told that she would never have a family of her own. Her stepmother had made that plain. She would work and serve until she was too old and too with out to be of use. If she was fortunate then she would have the opportunity to tend to Anastasia's or Drizella's children, for she would have none of her own.

But her stepmother had been wrong. Cinderella had proven her wrong; she had a family and she would have a child and it was all so wonderful.

And yet at the same time Cinderella was terrified. Not for the same reasons that Eugene was frightened, but nevertheless she was concerned. This was what she wanted...but that alone was not enough to make her suited for it.

She hadn't recognised the signs. Should she have? When her bleeding didn't come, should that have been sign enough? Should she have realised what her nausea and vomiting meant, instead of trying to hide them from Eugene in the hope that they would go away?

Cinderella didn't know the answer, and she didn't know who she could ask about it either. She had no one she could turn to for advice on any of this, nobody who knew any more than she did.

No one who could tell her that she was ready, and that she would be the good mother she had dreamed of being.

"Ma'am?" Duchamp's voice intruded upon her thoughts.

Cinderella started. "Oh, I'm sorry, Duchamp, I was somewhere else altogether."

"So I'd gathered, ma'am," Duchamp said. "May I ask where?"

Cinderella 2as silent for a moment, wondering whether she dared confide in her maid. She was, honestly she was afraid to ask in case she was told that no, she wouldn't be a good mother. But...no, Duchamp would not be so cruel to her. Since she had known the other woman Duchamp had been very kind to her. Honest, yes, but never brutally so.

"I...I'm worried, Duchamp. I'm so happy, but at the same time...I wish I could be more certain that I could get this right. I...I feel as though I've no idea how to do this, and no one to tell me."

"A position that shouldn't be unfamiliar to you, ma'am," Duchamp replied.

"Hmm?" Cinderella murmured. "I don't understand you."

A faint smile played across Duchamp's face. "When I first met you, ma'am, you bad not the first idea of anything connected with this place. You didn't know how to address me, how to behave, what to do, anything. But you learned and, if it isn't overstepping my bound to say so, you have become a very fine princess, and a mistress I am proud to serve. You may not know now all that you need to, but I have doubt that you can learn just as well."

Cinderella smiled. "Thank you," she said softly. "You know just what to say to make me feel better."

Duchamp curtsied. "I do my best, ma'am."

Duchamp took her leave, now that Cinderella Was dressed and the maid's job done for now. But Cinderella didn't go anywhere. Although there was a small celebration downstairs waiting for her, she didn't leave just yet.

There was someone else she had to share the news with first.

Cinderella sat down on the stool before the dressing table. She couldn't get down on the floor or bend further, or rather she didn't feel like it at the moment with the bloated feeling in her abdomen.

So she simply leaned forward just a little and began to call in a soft voice, "Jaq? Jaq, can you hear me?"

It was about a moment or three before he scurried out of the mouse hole underneath the dressing table, her oldest friend in his little red jacket. Gus was a step behind him, his shirt riding up his belly as he ran.

"What's up, Cinderelly?" Jaq asked. "Heard Cinderelly might be sick-sick again? Cinderelly gonna be okay?"

"Yes," Cinderella said. "Oh, yes, Jaq, I'm going to be fine. Better than fine, I'm going to be..." She clasped her hands over her heart. "I'm going to be a mother!"

Jaq's draw dropped. "Cinderelly gonna...that's great! Just great; must be thrill-thrilled!"

"I am," Cinderella said. "I really am, I...It feels as though I've just gotten used to one huge change in my life and now here my life is, changing again." It was funny, this change was probably smaller than the last, which had upended every single thing about her life, but in some ways it felt more momentous.

"Congratulations, Cinderelly! Cinderelly gonna be great-great, no doubt."

"None?" Cinderella asked. "None at all?" If true, that was fewer doubts than she possessed.

Jaq nodded. "Mesa remember when I got sick, Cinderelly stayed up all night to make sure less okay. Cinderelly always been taking care of people, taking care of baby no different."

"I hope you're right, Jaq," Cinderella said. "I so very much hope that you're right."

* * *

Cinderella was feeling sufficiently recovered or at least sufficiently energised by the happy news, that she had been able to come downstairs and join the others in one of the palace drawing rooms, where a celebration was underway.

It was not the celebration. That would come later, His Majesty had already commanded a grand ball be held to celebrate the news very soon. Tonight the church bells would ring out across the length of Armorique to proclaim it to the skies: the princess was with child.

But you couldn't expect them to wait for a hall in a few days time. No. A little champagne had been broken open in the drawing room and a more modest celebration was under way. His Majesty was already discussing baby names with anyone who would listen.

"Louis, obviously," he was saying. "Charles is a good strong name, and you know there's something to said for Arthur, too..."

Angelique shook her head, in a discreet way obviously, as she looked around the room. Cinderella was sitting by the window, taking the load off her feet, smiling brilliantly as she talked to the princess of Normandie. Angelique wasn't minded to disturb them; she'd already offered her congratulations.

A smile played across Angelique's face as she contemplated Cinderella's joy in her new circumstances. And the happiness that she felt in seeing Cinderella happy. Who would have ever thought that the day would come when she would find glee in the happiness of a princess? When she would even care at all? But the day had co.e, and she did care. That...That 3as part of Cinderella's magic. She made you cars, by deserving to be cared about.

She deserved this baby. She deserved everything that she wanted to make her happy, and Angelique would do everything in her power to see that she got it. After what Cinderella had done for Jean, for Angelique, for the whole country...It was the least Angelique could do in return.

Most importantly, Cinderella deserved to not have her life ruined by any more stuck-up snobs like Serena de Montcalm or chancers like Lucien Gerard. Thankfully they were neither of them in a position to cause trouble any more, but...

But there was still Grace.

Grace du Villeroi was out there somewhere Angelique could feel it between her shoulder blades: like a knife. She didn't know where she was - she had eyes in the street looking, but so card to no avail - Or what she was planning but she didn't for one minute believe that Grace had given up.

But Angelique didn't intend to let whatever new schemes she had come to fruition. She wouldn't hurt Cinderella any more. That was a promise.

Angelique's eyes were drawn to Jean, who alone of everyone in the drawing room didn't seem like he was celebrating. He was standing off to one side, apart from all others, with his head bowed in thought.

Angelique made her way over to him, getting his attention with a hand on his elbow. "Hey," she said. "What's up? You don't look happy."

"I rejoice in the happiness of her highness, of course," Jean said stiffly.

"But?"

Jean frowned. "These tidings, glad though they are, bring home to me the ways that I have failed in my duties this past year."

"You haven't failed," Angelique said. "You're being too hard on yourself, and Cinderella would tell you the same."

"Her highness has a most generous nature," Jean said. "But the fact is that under my protection her highness has been attacked several times and her chambers entered repeatedly by very unsavoury characters."

"How were you supposed to know that there were secret passages in the walls?"

"Secret passages we still can't find," Jean said. "I am starting to fear they will not be found short of ripping down the walls to see what lies behind. The point is-"

"The point is that she is alive," Angelique pointed out. "You protected Cinderella from danger whenever it came her way."

"It was sometimes close," Jean said. "Too close, and with this child...I mist do better."

Angelique waited a moment. "Okay then, what are you going to do better?"

"More men, if I am allowed them, and a closer presence upon her highness at all times. I'm afraid she won't like it but Ibjlhope she will accept. And I have an idea for...Angelique, do you remember Oscar and her gang?"

"Yes," Angelique said uncertainty. "But what are you-"

"And do you remember Michelle, the maid that Lady Serena placed in the princess chamber under the guise of a bodyguard?"

Angelique's eyes widened. "Hang on, you want to recruit Oscar to pretend to be a maid while actually being a bodyguard?"

"There are some places only a woman can go."

"I suppose, but do you think she'd do it?"

"I think for the promised of guaranteed meals and a salary she might."

Angelique nodded. "Fair enough, I can see that; but do you think you'll be allowed to get away with it?"

"The princess gave us a chance, did she not?" Jean asked. "And besides, how can any measure be unsuitable provided that it keeps them safe?"

* * *

It took Cinderella longer than it should have done to remember that, actually, there was one person in the palace whom she could possibly go to for advice on motherhood, someone who had already brought a child into the world and raised them afterward. And so, after dinner, Cinderella made her way through the Kings Tower toward the rooms occupied by Eugene's son Philippe and by his grandmother.

Jean followed behind her, a silent shadow at her heels.

"I'm sure that you don't need to follow me around everywhere, Jean," Cinderella said. "I doubt anyone is lurking up here who means me harm."

"I hope you are right, your highness," Jean replied. "But I if that is the case I have lost nothing for being here, and you have lost nothing for having me with you."

Cinderella paused on the stairs, looking down upon him. "I haven't suddenly become more delicate than I was yesterday, you know," she said.

"I know, your highness, but please humour me nonetheless."

Cinderella pursed her lips together. She liked Jean, but she didn't really want to be followed round everywhere she went by him or anyone else. But, well, she supposed that this could fall under Eugene's insistence that she take care of herself. And Cinderella further supposed that, if anything did happen, she might be glad to have Jean nearby.

So she nodded. "Very well." And continued on her way.

As Cinderella had expected, Madame Esme Clairval was in her grandsons room, sitting on a spindly wooden chair watching him play with a wooden castle and some knights.

Cinderella knocked on the open door. Madame Clairval looked at her, while Philippe smiled as he ran from his castle and knights, bounding across the room towards her.

"Stepmother!"

Cinderella fell to her knees in front of him, holding out her arms to pull him into an embrace as he ran to her. "Philippe," she cried, smiling fondly as she hugged him and planted a kiss upon his forehead.

She could never have been cruel to him. Not after what her stepmother had done to her, not after the way the neglect had hurt as much as anything else. And Philippe was a sweet boy, happy and outgoing, easy to love.

She thought her child would be fortunate to have Philippe as an older brother.

Cinderella ran one hand through his hair. It was dark, raven black lime his father's but long and floppy, falling down around his face and to his shoulders.

"And what are you doing this evening?"

"Capturing the castle."

"Well that sounds dangerous, you must be very brave," Cinderella said. "I hope there are no princesses in your castle or they'll be very frightened to see you outside."

Philippe shook his head. "Although you could play, stepmother, and I could protect you."

Cinderella laughed. "I'm sure you could, but I'm afraid I need to have a word with your grandmother tonight."

"I've already heard the news," Madame Clairval said. "Congratulations, your highness."

"Thank you," Cinderella replied.

"Grandmother says that I'm going to have a little brother or sister," Philippe said plaintively.

Cinderella looked down into his eyes. He had his father's eyes, deep and brown. "That's true. What do you think about that?"

Philippe was silent for a moment. "Will you still love me, Stepmother?"

"Yes," Cinderella said fiercely. "Yes, Philippe, I will always love you, I promise." Augustina had once tried to convince her it was natural for stepmother to hate their stepchildren, as a way of advantaging their own offspring. Cinderella didn't believe that. She couldn't believe that, she couldn't accept that what had been done to her was just and natural. And she couldn't turn her back on a motherless buy ad though he had never been anything more than a toy for her to play with.

She kissed him again, and hugged him tight. "I really do need to speak with your grandmother," she said. "But I'll play with you after, before you go to bed. Is that alright?"

Philippe nodded vigorously.

"Off you go then," Cinderella said, and sent him back to his castle. As she got up, she saw that Madame Clairval was smiling at her.

"You're very good with him," she said. "It gives me hope for the future."

Cinderella sat down only a few feet from the older woman. "What do you mean?"

"I'd been trying to avoid thinking about it, when it was just the two if us, but now...I'm not getting any younger. I might not be able to keep running around after him forever or-"

"Please don't worry, I'm sure you've many years left."

"I certainly hope so," Madame Clairval said. "But if not...I know he'll be taken care of here, with you."

Cinderella nodded. "Eugene and I would take good care of him."

"I told you before that it was you I trusted, not him. That hasn't changed." She sighed. "Now, your highness, what did you want to discuss with a poor old woman?"

Cinderella was silent for a moment. "I'm having a child," she said. " I'm havi g a child and I feel as though I don't know the first thing about it. And I feel as though you might be the only person who could help me.

"My mother died when I was a young girl," Cinderella continued. Her memories of her mother were insubstantial things, moments shared here and there. She remembered just enough to say that her mother had been kind and loving, but she couldn't really say that she had known the woman who brought her into the world. "Eugene's mother is dead too. My stepmother is, um, yes, well, I hope I don't need to explain. None of my friends have even married, let alone...You're the only person I know who has been a mother so...I know this might sound foolish but I was hoping that I could come and talk to you, if I need...any help."

She bowed her head a little, waiting for the answer. Put like that, listening to herself, it seemed a very impertinent request. Who was she to Madame Clairval? Only the woman who had supplanted Katherine on Eugene's heart. That they got on as well as they seemed to was extraordinary but this...what right did Cinderella have to ask this of her.

"You know," Madame Clairval said. "I never got to help my Katherine raise her son. She was taken before I got the chance, and I feel as though I've been as much mother as grandmother to that boy." She smiled slightly. " I'm sure your highness will have an army of servants to help take care of everything but, if you do need my assistance, I will give you all I can."

Cinderella sighed with relief. "I...Thank you so much. I don't really understand."

"You asked but you didn't expect me to say yes?"

"I didn't have anyone else to turn to."

Madame Clairval chuckled. "I don't think that I'll ever be done of your husband, I don't think I'll ever be able to pretend that I am. But I don't hold that against you or anything else. I think...call it and old woman's foolishness if you like but I think she would have liked you. And I think, I'm sure she'd approve of the way you've treated Philippe. Speaking of which-"

"Can you play now, stepmother?"

"Alright," Cinderella said with a laugh. "I'm coming."

Cinderella played with her stepson until it was his bedtime, when she helped his grandmother tuck him in, and then she read to him.

"Goodnight Philippe," Cinderella said gently, as she gave him a goodnight kiss.

Madame Clairval left the room with her. "I understand that you're uncertain, your highness, but let me tell you one thing: if you show your own children as much love as you shown Philippe then I don't doubt your already going in the right direction."

* * *

 _Author's Note: I've missed you, Cinderella.  
_

 _Cinderella getting pregnant was one of the earliest ideas I had for the sequel, and I kept coming back to it over and over again because it represents another big shift in the status quo. I very much don't want this fic to be a complete rehash of the first one, and so throwing in a big change like this right at the start will helpfully hope me avoid that._

 _The other thing I want to do better in this fic is Eugene, who was the most poorly served character last time around. I gave him the POV as much because I wanted to break the news of the pregnancy in just that way, but opening with him also signals my determination to do him more justice in this story._

 _Anyway, I hope you enjoy the ride to come._


	2. Work and Play

Work and Play

The first tap of Cinderella's heel upon the wooden floor of the drawing room was enough to attract Eugene's attention; he turned towards her and started to climb out of his chair.

Cinderella smiled. "Am I becoming so heavy-footed already?"

Eugene returned her smile with one of his own, a charming smile that made him look years younger. "Perhaps my ears are just that sharp. Or perhaps I'm just getting better at knowing exactly where you are." He walked towards her, his boots squeaking a little on the wood, and reached out towards her with both hands. "How are you feeling?"

Cinderella walked slowly towards him, her petticoats rustling a little as she moved, and held out her hands to him. "You asked me that at breakfast."

They were close enough now that Eugene could take Cinderella's hands. Through the silk of her gloves she could feel his grasp, firm but gentle, holding her tight without causing her pain. "Yes, but that was almost an hour ago," he said. "How do you feel now?"

Cinderella's chuckle was fond but also somewhat exasperated. "It's my slipper that is made of glass, not me. I haven't become exquisitely fragile all of a sudden just because I have our child in me."

He looked down at her. Cinderella had to look up to meet his eyes. "Cinderella," he murmured, as with one hand he reached up and stroked her cheek with his fingers, and then ran them slowly through her hair. She could feel his fingertips brushing against the pearls she wore round her neck. "You have no idea how badly a part of me wants to do so much more than just irritate you by asking you how you're feeling too often. There's a part of me that is leaping up and down inside me, telling me that even letting you work like this puts both of you in danger. I'm afraid you can't stop me from worrying, any more than you can stop me from loving you."

"Are you telling me I should be grateful it isn't worse?" Cinderella asked.

"No," Eugene said. "I'm saying that you're going to have to put up with it for the next eight months. Fortunately, you seem to be very patient with my foibles." He bent down, and kissed Cinderella upon each cheek and lastly upon the lips. "So how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Cinderella said.

Eugene looked at her.

Cinderella sighed. "You know what I mean. I'm a little tired, and I still feel a little bloated, but I don't feel sick. I feel as close to fine as I think I'm going to get for a little while."

Eugene nodded. "Tell me at once if you feel too tired to keep going, won't you?"

Cinderella nodded, and let a slight hint of a second sigh escape her lips. "Yes, darling, I will." She understood why he was behaving in this way, and she would certainly rather that her husband fretted too much than showed no concern whatsoever for her health or condition, but that didn't mean that the way that not only Eugene but seemingly everyone couldn't stop themselves from asking her how she was and tell them at once if she felt poorly didn't grow a little wearisome.

But it was a small price to pay. Cinderella knew that nothing came for absolutely nothing; the price for having a loving husband and friends who cared about you was that they would care for and about you even if you sometimes wished they wouldn't care so much.

Eugene must have heard her sigh, not to mention the slight weariness of her tone, but chose not to remark upon it. Instead he said, "You should sit down, I'm sorry for keeping you on your feet like this."

Cinderella didn't reply directly to that but allowed him to guide her to the desk at which he had been sitting when she came in. He pulled out a cushioned chair for her and pushed it back in once she had sat down. It did feel good to take the weight off her feet, Cinderella admitted to herself. She had gotten a good night's sleep but she still felt weary. She supposed it was a consequence of sleeping for two.

 _Even when I think that it sounds so strange. There are times when I still can't believe this is real._

Cinderella forced her thoughts away from her condition for a moment - as wonderful as it was she couldn't dwell on it all the time, wandering around the palace thinking of nothing but their baby and her approaching motherhood, deaf and blind to everything else - before Eugene noticed and suggested that she didn't need to be here.

Eugene chuckled softly. "It's alright," he said. "I'm not going to send you away just because you drifted off for a moment."

"How did you-"

"The startled look on your face suggested something like it," he said. "What were you thinking about?"

Cinderella looked down for a moment. "I'm sure you can imagine. But that's not why we're here, is it?"

"No," Eugene agreed. "Although I'm not really sure why you want to be here."

"Because you're here, and this is your life," Cinderella said, reaching out to place one hand delicately on his arm. The diamond in the centre of her engagement ring sparkled brilliantly under the light of the sun streaming in from the window, while the gold band of her wedding ring gleamed softly beneath the same. "Because this is your life and I want to share in it."

They had always loved each other, of that Cinderella was convinced and would remain convinced no matter what; but at first, in spite of taking her to wife Eugene had treated her not as a part of his life but as an escape to it, someone to go to when he wished to set aside the burdens that lay upon him as a prince. Cinderella didn't deny that he might need such an escape every so often, but too often it had left her feeling helpless, unneeded and unwanted by him. Now, although she would give Eugene a place to escape whenever he needed it - as she believed that he would do for her - she also shared in the burdens that he might wish to escape from. Spread across the large circular table around which they sat were various matters of governance and policy that His Majesty had delegated to his son. That workload had increased since Eugene's return from the war and His Majesty's recovery from his stroke.

It was not quite the burden of a king, but it was the burden of a man who would become king one day, and Cinderella was glad that Eugene now allowed her the opportunity to help him bear it in any way she could. She hoped that he would come to appreciate his decision, if he did not already.

Eugene smiled at her, and looked as though he might say something but then stopped himself. He laughed. "I was going to warn you this will probably turn out to be quite dull, but then you know that already, don't you? In some ways you have done more of this work than I have."

"I don't think that's true," said Cinderella modestly. "I was only regent for a few months; you've been helping your father for years."

"I've been trying," Eugene said. "You did all the work of a king, and so unexpectedly...I can't imagine how you managed it."

"You're making it sound much more impressive than it was," Cinderella murmured, bowing her head as her cheeks began to heat up.

She felt Eugene's fingertips upon her chin before she felt his kiss upon her forehead. "It seems incredible to me, knowing now what a wonderful woman you are, to look back and think of how certain I was that I should marry you, despite the fact that I was completely ignorant of all the qualities that you've shown me since."

Cinderella hesitated a moment, considering what he meant. She had made her peace with the fact that he had wed her first and foremost and almost entirely for her looks; the fact had troubled her once, but at the same time she had once been troubled by the fear that she had nothing but her looks to offer him or Armorique. Experience had taught her better, as it had taught Eugene, and that was enough for her. She turned her gaze upwards, into his eyes. "Perhaps our hearts were wiser than we were? Or perhaps it was simply fate."

"Perhaps," Eugene said. He withdrew his hand, and slumped back into his chair. "Now I fear that I'm simply distracting myself. We must get to work."

"Of course," Cinderella said. "What is it?"

"Matters rising out of the war," Eugene said, pulling a sheaf of bound papers towards him. "Father has asked me - asked us - to examine them. I think on some of them he would like us to recommend what course he ought to take."

"What sort of matters?"

"In the first place there is the issue of the landowners on Hispaniola, which is to pass into the hands of the Normans," Eugene said. "There are some, not least the landowners themselves, who think they ought to be compensated by the crown for the loss of their property."

Cinderella furrowed her brow somewhat. Under the terms of the agreement that she had made with Frederica de Normandie (acting on behalf of her father, the King of Normandie) the island of Hispaniola would pass to the Normans within one year of the end of the American war that Normandie had helped Armorique to win; by the same token by which the island itself changed hands all those who lived there would change sovereigns, becoming Norman subjects under Frederica's father. "I don't understand why they want or need compensation; surely the Normans aren't going to take their property away?" Perhaps it was her naiveté speaking, but Cinderella didn't want to believe that Frederica would behave in such a way, or would deceive her in such a way as to make Cinderella complicit in it.

"No," Eugene said. "But there are those on the island who do not wish to become Normans; some of them are loyal to the crown of Armorique, some of them have family here, some...there are various reasons, but they wish to return to Armorique - or go to another of our colonies - before the transfer of sovereignty. They, and their supporters here at home, believe that they should be compensated for their property which they will have to leave behind them when they go."

"I see," Cinderella said softly. Put like that it didn't seem unreasonable. It was, after all, her fault that they were having to choose between their homes and their countries. It was only fair that she, or the crown at least, should help to make things right. "Are there very many of them?"

Eugene shook his head. "No, but they are very wealthy. If the upper estimates of the value of their estates were to be paid...it could be incredibly costly, on top of the revenue loss from losing the island-" the spike of guilt that Cinderella felt as he said that must have shown on her face, much as she tried not to let it, because Eugene's expression and his tone softened noticeably. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to criticise you only to state the fact; I should have put it better. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Cinderella, quickly and quietly. "I suppose...looking back on it I was rather selfish, to do what I did."

"Selfish?" Eugene sounded incredulous.

"I wanted you home," Cinderella said. "And because I did-"

"You won the war," Eugene said. "Without you - and Princess Frederica, I admit - I wouldn't have had the numbers to bring the fighting to a close. And you didn't just bring me home. You brought Etienne home to Mademoiselle Adessi, you brought Mademoiselle Dubois' father home to her. You brought every husband, every father, every son and brother and sweetheart home to his family. What you did is worth far more than tax revenues of a Caribbean island, or the potential payment to a few landowners. So no regrets."

Cinderella's lips twitched upwards as the warm water of Eugene's encouraging words melted the ice of her self-doubt. "I think I'll probably always have regrets about something, whether I should or not. It's...I think it's who I am." She glanced down at the table for a moment. "So, what do you think? I...it may be expensive, but I decided to give away these people's homes; whatever my reason, I still did that. I think...it would be very unkind to ignore the consequences of that, don't you think?"

Eugene's expression was neutral, if benignly so. "As always your sense of right and wrong is indisputable. These people are leaving Hispaniola for love of country; it would be churlish of the country to respond by turning its back on them."

"But?"

Eugene shrugged. "It is an awful lot of money. There will be many who oppose the spending of it on principle and they-"

Cinderella waited for him to continue. "And what?"

Eugene looked away. "It's nothing."

"If it's nothing then why don't you want to tell me?"

Eugene said nothing.

"Eugene," Cinderella said. She reached out and clasped his hand. "It matters more to me that you be honest than all the jewels that you could shower upon me."

Eugene looked at her again. "If a vast some of money is spent in compensating the departing islanders then I'm afraid there will be those who blame you for having made the spending necessary; regardless of why you did it or the many consequences."

Cinderella closed her eyes for a moment. "I see," she whispered. She supposed she oughtn't to have been surprised; it wasn't as though all of her enemies had been dispossessed like Serena and her family, or vanished like Grace and hers. Many of them still lingered, possessed of some or all of their power and wealth, gazing at her with hateful envy. "Thank you...for reminding me."

Eugene's face took on a pained aspect. "I would spare you from it, if I could."

"I know," Cinderella said. She squeezed his hand quickly. "Is there nothing that I can do to satisfy them? Will they blame me for everything, and hold everything against me?"

"I suspect there's nothing you could do that you would be willing to actually do," Eugene said. He was silent for a moment.

"Eugene?" Cinderella asked.

Eugene leaned back in his chair. "I think I might have just had an idea, if you're willing?"

"Me?" Cinderella said. "Yes, I'd do anything, but what?"

"Princess Frederica is your friend, hopefully she'll be more receptive to the idea coming from you," Eugene said. "Stop me if I'm not making any sense: when these people leave the island, their property will become vacant, yes?"

"Unless they sell it before they go."

"If they do that then they have no grounds to claim any compensation," Eugene said. "And in that case they can be safely. But if they leave without selling, their lands will be vacant."

"Yes, of course."

"And when the Normans move in, then what then? I'll wager that the Norman crown will take possession and what will they do? Sell the estates, most likely. So why shouldn't they pay to compensate the original owners, out of the proceeds of the sale?"

"Would they?" Cinderella asked. "I mean...why would they? Frederica and I never agreed anything like that."

"True," Eugene allowed. "I suppose...since you get on so well with her perhaps I'm hoping you can work a little magic and wrangle the concession out of her."

Cinderella covered her mouth demurely as she chuckled. "I think you might be putting too much faith in me, but I'll try. She's coming to the ball tonight, isn't she? I'll speak to her then."

"Thank you," Eugene said. "It would be the easiest way out of this mess."

"And if she refuses?" Cinderella asked. "Will we pay them then?"

"We...we shall see," Eugene replied. "It may be putting off the decision, but I'd still rather wait until Frederica gives you an answer one way or another."

They discussed the details of the issue a little more, roughly how many people were expected to leave, how much land would be abandoned and to what value, so that Cinderella could speak to Frederica in some specifics besides the generalities; having thus armed Cinderella with some of the facts and figures - she hoped that she could remember them all by tonight - they moved on to the next issue.

And in that way they worked for a while, a few hours at least, discussing the various matters that His Majesty had delegated to them both. And through it all, despite the fact that some of the issues they examined were complex, and most of them did not have simple answers - generally, it seemed to Cinderella that there were obvious 'wrong' solutions, but that the right answers were rendered elusive by Eugene's understanding of the practicalities involved - Cinderella found that she was never once bored, or even tempted to regret being here. Being with Eugene, helping him, supporting him, being more than just a lover but a partner too...it was what she'd always wanted out of her marriage, and to have it kept a flame of contentment burning in her heart all through the morning.

However, as she worked Cinderella could feel resurgent nausea creeping up on her, as much as she tried to fight through it, and it must have shown at least in part because Eugene stopped and said, "Cinderella, I told you to let me know when you couldn't keep going any longer."

Cinderella shook her head. "I'm fine, really."

"And what was that you were saying about honesty?" Eugene asked.

Cinderella bowed her head. "I'm sorry," she murmured apologetically. "I am feeling a little sick, I just...I didn't want to leave you."

She was grateful that Eugene didn't censure her any further. Rather, his smile was fond and gentle as he got up from his chair. "Come on, let's get you somewhere more comfortable. All the rest will keep. I won't work on it without you, I promise."

"Really?"

"Not if it means that much to you."

"Thank you," Cinderella said softly. "This might all seem boring to you but to me...the fact that we share it makes it..." she stood up, and immediately felt so light headed that she swayed in place, and would have stumbled if Eugene had not grabbed hold of her, taking her around the waist with one arm and holding her hand with the other.

"Careful," Eugene said. "I've got you."

Cinderella smiled. "That's why I don't need to be careful. I know you'll be there to catch me."

"That doesn't mean that you should look to fall," Eugene said, in a tone of slight reproach.

Eugene guided her out of the study in which they had been working, and into a sitting room not far away. He helped Cinderella onto a settee where she half sat, half reclined with her feet up on a blue ottoman and the sunlight streaming in through the Gallic windows, offering a view of the verdant gardens beyond.

"You should eat something," Eugene said. "I'll have some lunch prepared for you."

"For both of us," Cinderella said. "Unless you have somewhere else you need to go."

"Of course not," Eugene said, bending down to kiss her before he sat down on a red velvet armchair nearby, dragging it across the floor so that he was nearer to her.

They didn't talk much. Eugene let Cinderella rest a little, and he got out his flute and played a soothing melody as they waited for their lunch to be brought to them. After a little while, a pair of servants brought them a pot of tea, some sandwiches, cakes and the like. Cinderella would not ordinarily have eaten much at all of such a spread, delicious though it looked, out of concern - that might be more properly called fear - that the moment she allowed herself to put on weight Eugene would reject. But now, with his gaze upon her and his various admonitions ringing in her ears, Cinderella allowed herself to eat as much as she wanted for the first time.

"By the way, darling," Eugene said, as they finished the sandwiches and began to get to work on the cakes. "I've sent a letter offering one of the vacant positions as a lady-in-waiting to you; there should be a reply soon, I'm very hopeful she'll accept."

"Oh," Cinderella said softly. "I...I was hoping that you'd discuss that with me first."

"Ordinarily, I would," Eugene replied. "But in this case...I thought it might make a nicer surprise."

"You must be very certain that I'll like her, then."

"That is what I understand."

Cinderella's eyes narrowed for a moment. "Alright, I trust you. But in future could we please talk about it first? The last time my ladies were all chosen for me..." she trailed off. Of the six ladies-in-waiting who had been, well, waiting for her when she returned from her honeymoon with Eugene, the only two who remained with her now - Angelique Bonnet and Marinette Gerard - were the two that Cinderella had asked for or appointed herself; of the others: Augustina du Bois had turned out to be the best of them, and she and Cinderella had come to understand one another in the end, but she had resigned over a point of honour; Theodora de la Tour had been a bully who had tried to torment and humiliate Cinderella; Serena du Montcalm and Grace du Villeroi had both betrayed her. However, if she was being honest with herself then Cinderella would have to admit that she would have chosen Grace and Serena herself if she'd been given the choice; she had thought them her best friends in her new royal world.

"We'll talk about it," Eugene agreed. "Is there anyone that you can think of now?"

Cinderella was glad he'd asked; she'd been wondering how to bring this particular subject up. "I've been thinking about that. I...I'd like to offer a position to my stepsister Drizella."

Eugene looked as though he was about choke on his tea. He set the china cup down on the nearest table with more force than it probably warranted. "You...your stepsister? Did I hear you right?"

Cinderella smiled slightly. "Yes, I think you did."

Eugene stared at her as though she was mad. "But...why? Before we were married you were emphatic that you didn't want either of them anywhere near you, and after what you told me I could understand why. I couldn't understand why you didn't want them punished, but this...I'm afraid I can't comprehend what you're thinking. After everything they did to you...why?"

"Because they could have done much worse," Cinderella said softly.

"Really?" Eugene asked sceptically. "I'm finding that a little difficult to believe."

"I wouldn't have believed it myself, once," Cinderella replied. "But then...look at Angelique. She lived on scraps in the streets and alleyways because her mother didn't want her any more. She and Jean...it's a miracle that they survived. My stepmother could have thrown me out of my father's home and left me to fend for myself just like Angelique was left and then what would have happened to me? Would I have met you? Would I be here?"

"You know that this was never their plan for your future," Eugene said.

"I know that very well," Cinderella said, allowing a touch of reproach to enter her voice as she reminded him that it was her life they were discussing. "But they gave me a roof and a room and a bed. It wasn't the best room or the best bed but it wasn't nothing. They could have done worse."

"They used you like a servant," Eugene said.

"And we have an army of servants, that doesn't make us wicked," Cinderella said. "Does it?"

Eugene's mouth twisted. "Your logic is flawless, but I still don't see why you'd want to give them your patronage?"

"Because, in their own way, they showed me kindness," Cinderella said. "And I want to show that I appreciate that."

Eugene stared at her. "Sometimes I think you are too full of kindness."

"I don't think it's possible to be too kind," Cinderella said. "Certainly I wouldn't want it to be true."

"Alright," Eugene said. "Do you want to write to them or-"

"I thought I'd invite them to tea, and discuss it with them," Cinderella said.

Eugene nodded. "I...are you sure that they won't hurt you?"

Cinderella nodded. Serena had told her that her stepmother had refused to be a part of Serena's conspiracy or her attempted coup; true, she hadn't said anything about it either but everything had worked out in the end so there was little point holding that against her. "I'm sure," she said. "I don't see what they could do to me now."

Speaking of people who might wish to hurt her, Jean came in not long after and asked if he could have a word with both of them.

"Of course, Jean," Cinderella said mildly. "Please, sit down."

"At the moment I'd rather stand, your highness," Jean said, standing stiffly before the prince and princess with his hands clasped behind his back and his chest puffed out ever so slightly. "Your highnesses...princess, I trust you are feeling well?"

 _Everyone's going to spend the next eight months asking me how I'm feeling, aren't they?_ "I'm as well as can be expected, Jean, thank you."

"I am glad to hear it," Jean said. He took a deep breath. "Your highnesses, as you cannot fail to be aware there have been a number of...a number of failures of your highness' security over the last few months. Failures for which I admit some part." He closed his eyes. "I'm very sorry, your highness; I've let you down, and if you wanted to appoint someone else I wouldn't blame you-"

"I can't think of anyone I trust more with my safety," Cinderella said, leaning forward a little as she clasped her gloved hands together. The pearl and sapphire bracelets around her arms fell forward into stacks at her wrists. "You've saved my life twice."

"And seen you in harms way as often," Jean said quietly. "That said...if you do wish to retain me...I give you my word, both of you, that it won't happen again. Especially now...I will do much better, I promise; but I would like to ask you to approve a few changes to help me do so."

"Name them," Eugene said, leaving it ambiguous as to whether he meant 'name them and they will be done' or whether he just wanted to find out what Jean had in mind.

Jean shifted in place. His boot squeaked on the floor. "I'd like to double the size of the princess' establishment; that will give me enough men for what I have in mind without wearing them out."

"Done," Eugene said. "You can select extra men at once."

"Thank you, your highness. I also have a couple of promotion recommendations to help me manage-"

"Details I'm sure you can discuss with your colonel," Eugene said. "What else to keep Cinderella safe."

Jean glanced down at Cinderella with a look that was almost apologetic. "At present, your highness is accompanied by guards whenever you leave the palace. I would like to have you accompanied by at least one man inside the palace as well. That way no new Lucien can ever accost you while you are alone and do harm to you."

"Do you really think that's necessary?" Cinderella asked. "Lucien is far away now."

"Can you say that there will never be a new Lucien obsessed with you, princess?" Jean asked. "I can't, and I wouldn't want to. I...ideally I would like there to be one man on the door of whatever room you are in, another man in the room with you, and one man on the door of your chambers at all times and a man within at all times. Plus a larger escort beyond the safety of the palace."

"That seems a little much," Cinderella said, imagining her every move and word being observed by one or more burly soldiers. Was she to have no privacy at all? "I mean, I'm sure that all of these people you want to have following me around will be frightfully bored."

"They're the royal guards, Cinderella, they're supposed to be bored," Eugene said. "If they lead lives of excitement something has gone very wrong."

Cinderella looked at him. "Do you really think this is necessary?"

"I think...I don't think any of us has taken your safety seriously enough in the past," Eugene said apologetically. "Lucien was getting into your room for weeks, months and I just shrugged it off and told you to do the same, even though he was frightening you. When I heard what he almost did, I...I'm a little surprised you're so unsure about this."

Cinderella was silent for a moment. It was true that Lucien's relentless campaign to woo her and win her had, at times, brought her to terror; it was true that she had felt besieged and hunted by his ability to bypass all obstacles in order to get to her. It was true that she had been forced to ask Angelique to share her room so that she would have a protector with her. It was true that she didn't want anything like that to happen again, especially now. But at the same time...there was a part of her that wanted a little more freedom than Jean's new plan for her defence seemed to offer her. She had agreed to be always accompanied by guards when out and about - and a good thing that she had, if she had not she would have died within days of the end of her honeymoon, when someone had tried to shoot her at a meeting of the Anti-Corn Law League - but to not even be free to go where she liked, to be alone for a few moments, even in the palace?

 _But why do I want to be alone, really? What do I want to do that I don't want anyone to see?_

 _I don't know, but that doesn't mean I want to be followed everywhere._

 _Do you want to be hurt? Do you want your baby to be hurt? Is going accompanied such a problem?_

That was the rub, wasn't it? Jean wasn't doing this because he wanted to hurt her or make her miserable; Eugene didn't support this because he wanted to curb her freedom. They were proposing this because they wanted to keep her safe, her and her child, and they thought that this was the best way to ensure her safety. Compared to that, what was her objective but a silly and rather selfish thing?

"Alright," Cinderella said. "I agree."

Jean nodded. "Thank you, your highness, I swear that you won't regret it." He stood still, looking as if there was more he wished to say but he was uncertain how to say.

Eugene reached out and clasped one of Cinderella's hands. With his thumb he started to push the pearls of Cinderella's bracelet back and forth across her wrist. "Was there something else?"

"Yes, your highness, one more thing," Jean said. "As...there are certain places you cannot be guarded by men, princess. In the bath, getting dressed, sleeping...it would be wholly inappropriate...for men to protect you there."

"From the emphasis you just placed on men I assume you have some notion involving women," said Eugene, his tone giving little hint whether he approved or not.

"Princess, you remember Michelle, the maid that Serena gave you as a protector?"

"Yes," Cinderella said. "I remember that she was loyal to Serena, not to me."

"Indeed, your highness, but I believe the idea is sound. Just one or two women who can keep you safe in places where decency prohibits any men be present," Jean said. "I cannot think of any alternative other than accepting that at times and certain places you will be vulnerable. I would rather not do so."

"Where would you propose to find these amazons?" Eugene asked.

"I can think of a few rough-and-tumble girls I used to know who would be willing to exchange the uncertainty of their lives for a roof and a wage and guaranteed meals, your highness," Jean said. "I will vouch for their characters and quality."

Eugene leaned back in his chair. "It's certainly a novel idea, but I suppose that doesn't mean it's inherently a bad one. You have a point about...Cinderella, what do you think? Is this what you want?"

 _What I want is to bring our child into a world where they don't have to be guarded or in fear for their life,_ Cinderella almost said. But that might have sounded petulant, ungrateful either for all that she had been blessed with or else for the efforts that Jean was making to protect her. The truth was, much as she might wish it otherwise, that for a prince or princess such a world did not exist. She would always have enemies, and Cinderella had even learned to accept the fact that there was nothing she could do to conciliate some of them. There would always be those who hated her, and Eugene...and their baby, when born.

She thought of Lucien, creeping into her room to watch her sleep, and shuddered. "Very well," she said. "I think your idea is a good one."

Jean sighed with relief. "Thank you, your highness. Do I have your authority to negotiate pay rates with my...likely recruits?"

"Within reason," Eugene said.

"Of course, your highness," Jean said. "Thank you. You will not regret this, princess. I...I'm sorry if it chafes a little, but it will be worth. No one will ever harm you again, I guarantee it."

* * *

This might be her last ball for a while, so Cinderella was determined to enjoy herself.

There would come a time, as her pregnancy advanced, when she was no longer able to dance in Eugene's arms, when she would have to sit upon the sidelines instead of whirling at the centre of the room; and even if it was only for a little while she would miss the dancing. But that time had not yet come, and since this ball was being thrown to celebrate her happiness Cinderella had no intention of being anything but happy tonight.

The gown she wore was one of Lucrecia's most extravagant creations, a vibrant mixture of white and blue. Beneath the white peplum, the skirt gradually changed from a mild, light blue to a deep ocean blue by the time it got down to the hem. A pair of puff shoulders, each almost as large as Cinderella's head, combined with her long gloves to leave barely an inch of her arms visible to view. A royal blue sash was tied - loosely, for the baby's sake - around her waist, forming a giant bow in front of her. Atop her head, Cinderella wore a sparkling diamond tiara that almost completely obscured the rolled hair of her bun from view. The rest of her jewellery was a mixture of pearls and sapphires: pearl and sapphire earrings dangled from her ears; strings of pearls intermingling with strings of sapphires crawling up her arms, some of them hanging loosely while others were clasped tight, all of them sparkling or lustrous in the candle-light; her wedding necklace, the pearls with the heart-shaped sapphire in the midst of them, hung around Cinderella's neck.

This might be her last ball for a while, so Cinderella was determined to look her absolute best.

She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, and sat down to wait for Eugene to come and collect her as he had said he would.

Her right hand, the light sparkling off the rings on her finger, drifted over her stomach.

"Hello, little one," Cinderella whispered. "Do you know who I am? I'm your mother. I hope you're looking forward to tonight, because tonight is a very special night. Do you know why? Because tonight is all about you. All the great men and women of the realm are here for you, to celebrate you. All the lords and the ladies and the generals and the admirals and the ministers and the deputies; they've all come here for you." Cinderella paused for a moment, her face falling slightly. "They don't all like me very much. Some of them, I'm afraid, don't like me at all. But I'm sure that they will all love you very much, because Prince Eugene is your father, even if I am your mother." She was silent for a moment. "But don't forget, please don't forget, that none of them will ever love you as much as I do." She kissed her fingertips, and pressed them against her belly.

She heard Eugene's voice from the other side of the door. "Cinderella, is someone in there with you?"

Cinderella chuckled. "No, there's no one here but the two of us." Duchamp had already left, having helped Cinderella get ready, to take a nap until her mistress required her to get ready for bed.

Eugene was smiling as he walked through the door. "Really? And how are you both?"

Cinderella beamed brightly as she rose to her feet. "Looking forward to this immensely."

Eugene crossed the room to kiss her, holding her tight as he locked her lips with his and played passionately with her tongue. When he was done, he looked a little out of breath. "You look beautiful. Truly stunning."

Cinderella was feeling a lightly breathless herself. She felt as though she was about to swoon. "And you look very dashing yourself," she said, referring to the green and blue dragoon uniform that he was wearing, with gold brocade and a scarlet, fur-trimmed pelisse hanging from one arm.

Eugene took her arm and began to walk her towards the door. "You will let me know if you start to feel tired, or unwell?"

"Yes, I will," Cinderella said patiently. There was no good in complaining about it, not least because it wouldn't do any good but also because, as much as it might grow a little tiresome very quickly, it came from love; there were far, far worse things to have than an over-attentive husband.

And besides, by the time Cinderella and Eugene had passed arm in arm down all the staircases from the Queen's Tower and through all the corridors that led to the ballroom she was a little out of breath, which made it hard to argue against Eugene's point.

 _I suppose I won't be able to dance quite as much as I would otherwise,_ Cinderella admitted, at least to herself. But it would not, she vowed, dent her enjoyment of her evening.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Eugene asked, as they paused before the great doors leading into the ballroom. "Because I can always say that you're-"

"I'm fine, Eugene," Cinderella said, gently but firmly. "I have no intention of missing this."

Eugene bowed his head for a moment. "Forgive me. I suppose that, in your gentle way, you're becoming quietly infuriated with me."

"No," Cinderella said, and it was mostly true. "I understand, I just need you to understand when I say I'm not about to collapse. Shall we go in?"

Eugene nodded, as he pushed open the great doors and led Cinderella out onto the stairs that led down into the ballroom. For a moment, Cinderella was blinded by the light of the room, so different to the shadowy gloom beyond; but once her eyes adjusted to the myriad lights that hung from the dozen great chandeliers she could see as large a crowd as had ever been present at any ball she had attended at the palace - which was to say anywhere: ladies in gorgeous gowns, men in sombre suits or lavish uniforms, a riot of colour spread across the room and all of them, every eye, turned upon Eugene and herself.

"Their Royal Highnesses," the master of ceremonies declared, banging his staff upon the floor. "Prince Eugene and Princess Cinderella of Rennes."

There was a moment of silence, when the sound of Eugene and Cinderella's footfalls upon the marble stairs were the only sounds that could be heard in the entire room.

And then the entire ballroom erupted in applause, all the great and the good of Armorique applauding, the sounds of their congratulations breaking upon the couple like waves upon the shore.

They were not applauding her, Cinderella knew. It was her child that they were hailing. She knew that with her head, but at he same time...at the same time it was such a wonderful sound that she could not help but to smile.

No one, it seemed, was clapping harder than His Majesty the King, who was the first to greet them as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Congratulations, congratulations!" he cried, as though he had not already expressed his good wishes numerous times now. In fact it seemed like every time he and Cinderella crossed paths he would congratulate her on the joyous news as though he hadn't seen her since the news was brought to him. Cinderella couldn't blame him; the future of his family would be secure once her child was born; his legacy would be secure.

She wondered, but did not ask, whether His Majesty would rather a grand-daughter or a second grandson. She hadn't asked Eugene that same question either, and she was trying to avoid thinking about it herself. Boy or girl she meant to love her child with all her heart just the same, and she was afraid that if she started wishing for one or the other...she was afraid of how she might feel if she were disappointed.

"Congratulations!" His Majesty declared again, taking Cinderella's free hand and kissing it enthusiastically. "I must confess I was a little disappointed that this news did not come sooner-"

"I was away for several months, father," Eugene pointed out.

"But now that the news is here," His Majesty continued as though he hadn't heard Eugene speak. "The months will fly by I am certain. But in the meantime: lights! Music! Let the revels now commence!"

The lights dimmed, and the orchestra began to play a stately Viennese waltz. Eugene glanced at her, and Cinderella's smile widened as her beloved prince took her in a loving hold and began to lead her across the ballroom.

Dancing with Eugene was the most magical feeling that Cinderella had ever or - she thought - could ever experience. She loved every moment that they could spend together, she relished every aspect of his life into which he allowed her but it was in the dance, as the music swelled around them and he guided her across the floor, when they truly became one heart and soul united in love. Nothing could compare to it, and nothing could detract from it. It was beauty like nothing else in her life and it was completely...completely wonderful.

Nevertheless, even that magical feeling struggled against the hard, unyielding physical demands of her body, and after two dances Cinderella had to confess to Eugene that she needed to rest for a moment. Usually she could dance three or four or even more dances in a row without even beginning to tire, and the only obstacle to her remaining with Eugene was their need to dance with other people every now and then. But now, tonight, after two dances she was tired, and her breathing was beginning to labour.

"I'll have a chair fetched for you," Eugene declared.

"There's no need," Cinderella said. "I just need to pause for a moment. Dance with someone else, and by the fourth dance I'll be fine."

"I should stay with you," Eugene said.

"I need to speak to Frederica anyway," Cinderella replied. "About the island, remember? I'm sure she'll take good care of me. Go and dance, and when I'm ready you'll be free again."

Eugene hesitated, but he was the one who had told her that Frederica would respond better to Cinderella than to himself, and so he kissed Cinderella gently upon the lips before leaving her at the edge of the ballroom, casting one or two looks back at her as he made his way over to Marinette Gerard, who lingered alone on the other side of the ballroom, and asked her to dance.

Marinette's eyes found Cinderella's from across the room. Cinderella gave her friend a smile of encouragement as the music started once again and the two of them began to dance the quickstep.

She watched them for a few moments, her husband and her friend, prancing across the floor - Marinette was not, bless her, the realm's best dancer, but Eugene was skilled enough for the both of them - before she turned away, picked up her skirt, and made her way around the fringes of the room in search of Frederica.

Cinderella found the princess of Normandie standing by the far door, a glass of champagne held languidly in one hand as she observed the dancing with an expression of apparent disinterest upon her face.

"Is everything alright, Frederica?" Cinderella asked as she approached.

Frederica's face brightened at once, she tucked some of her soft brown tresses behind her ears as she turned to face her fellow princess. "Cinderella! I was wondering where you'd gone when I saw your husband dancing with the new Lady Gerard." She took Cinderella's hands, and kissed her once upon each cheek. "I'm fine, dear, absolutely fine, thank you for asking."

"Are you sure?" Cinderella asked. "You look a little bored, and all alone."

Frederica laughed. "If I looked bored it's only because I couldn't see you, the most interesting person in the room."

Cinderella blushed. "Now you're just flattering me."

"I'm really not, but your adorable lack of ego is one of your more endearing qualities so who am I to talk you out to it," Frederica said lightly. "And how is my future godchild doing?"

Cinderella raised one eyebrow at her.

"Well, who else are you going to ask to be the godmother?" Frederica responded. "Someone of lesser rank than a princess? Oh no; no, no, no, no. That won't do, not do at all. You wouldn't insult me, as a princess or a friend, by refusing me would you?"

"No more than you would try and force me into choosing you, as a friend," Cinderella replied archly.

Frederica grinned like a child caught in mischief. "A fair point. But think it over, at least. Talk to Prince Eugene about it. I hope you'll agree that you could do a lot worse."

"I think any child would be well-blessed to have you as their godmother," Cinderella said. "And I will mention it to Eugene. But...I'm afraid that I need to talk to you about something else now."

"Ah, so it's business, not pleasure?"

"I'm afraid so."

"You mean you didn't seek me out simply for the pleasure of my company. I'm appalled," Frederica said, though her tone was amused not censorious. She took Cinderella by the arm and began to lead her out of the ballroom. "Come on, let's step outside for a moment where there are fewer ears to listen to us."

Cinderella explained to her about the situation in Hispaniola, and about Eugene's idea.

Frederica looked down on Cinderella calmly, without hostility on her face but without the amusement that had earlier characterised it either. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Cinderella, or think that my regard for you has lessened in any way-"

"But your answer is no," Cinderella finished.

"If I take this to my father he will tell me that Normandie has paid in blood the full cost of Hispaniola," Frederica said. "And, as strange as these words sound coming out of my mouth, I'd even be inclined to agree with him. There was nothing in our agreement about this, in fact our agreement implied that the inhabitants of the island would stay and become subjects of Normandie."

"But you were the one who told me that they could leave if they wished," Cinderella said.

"Obviously we won't keep them against their will, but..." Frederica trailed off for a moment. "Not only will Normandie not pay any compensation but I would strongly urge and ask you not to pay them anything either. The moment that we or you or anyone starts offering to pay people to go you encourage - or at least render possible - a mass exodus. But Normandie needs these people, without the planters to grow the sugar and the coffee crop then the land is worthless and so is the island."

"You can sell the land."

"To people who won't know what they're doing and could take years to learn," Frederica responded. "And in that time the tax revenues will plummet; Normandie came to your aid in order to gain a source of wealth. What you're proposing could lead to us receiving an unprofitable husk instead; it could be seen as an insult."

"It isn't, or it wasn't meant to be," Cinderella said. "So there's nothing you can do."

"I'm afraid not," Frederica said. "It's nothing personal, really. I hope you understand that. I do have to look out for my country's interests."

"I understand," Cinderella said. "As far as I'm concerned...it doesn't change that I consider you a friend."

Frederica's eyes closed for a moment. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not trying to emotionally blackmail me into anything."

"I wouldn't do anything like that."

"No, no you really wouldn't would you?" Frederica replied. "That's what makes you so special."

 _Author's Note: Since about halfway through the last story I think I've talked about how Eugene had let Cinderella into his life more, but the plot never really gave me the chance to show it so I'm glad that I was finally able to do so here._

 _One of the things that I think people most wanted to see in the last fic was more of Cinderella's stepfamily; the more I thought about it the more I liked the idea of her taking in one of her stepsisters and hopefully the explanation for why she might do so makes sense. It's something that Cinderella has actually thought about – the fact that her stepfamily could have kicked her out to fend for herself like Jean and Angelique, but didn't – ever since she met the two of them, she just hasn't done anything about it until now._


	3. The Duke and Duchess

_Morgaine2005 – I actually considered having Armorique use Salic Law before I decided that it was probably too late to introduce such a major element like that into the story._

The Duke and Duchess

Cinderella had hoped - rather too optimistically, in hindsight - that her conversation with Princess Frederica would last only for a single dance. It was actually midway through the fifth dance before Cinderella, with Frederica a step behind her, returned to the ballroom from the out of the shadowy corridor. As Cinderella made her way through those who, for whatever reason, were sitting out the dance and congregating around the fringes of the brightly lit ballroom, she beheld Eugene dancing with a rather beautiful woman with soft, dark brown hair, dressed in a gown of lace that swirled around her as she danced with Eugene. Distance and twirling motion kept Cinderella from getting a good look at her, but she easily seemed one of the prettiest women in the ballroom. Yet Cinderella couldn't recall seeing her before, in spite of the fact that she seemed - allowing, again, for the fact that it was difficult to tell - to be older than Cinderella was.

 _I suppose that no one knew me when I first arrived at the palace, and I was a little old for a debutante,_ Cinderella thought. _But unless this lady has been kept as a servant by her stepmother too it is a little strange._

"Do you know who that is, dancing with your husband?" Frederica asked from behind Cinderella.

Cinderella glanced over her shoulder. "No, I don't. I thought you might; you seem to know so many things."

Frederica chuckled. "I'm flattered, but no, not in this case. I've not met her either but then, I have only been in this country a little longer than you've been in society. I only came for Prince Eugene's ball. I wasn't supposed to stay unless I could secure His Highness' hand."

"Why did you?"

Frederica shrugged. "I like it here. I prefer it to my home, or anywhere else that I might go." She smiled. "So, a mysterious and beautiful stranger in the palace. Are you worried?"

Cinderella snorted. "No, Frederica, I'm not worried in the slightest."

Frederica was smirking, Cinderella could see it as she came to stand alongside her. "She is very pretty."

"And I am the mother of Eugene's child, his wife, his princess," Cinderella said calmly. "I'm not afraid of losing him any more." In the early months of her marriage that fear, verging upon an irrational terror, had gripped Cinderella's heart and soul: the fear that one day Eugene would wake up to what he had done in marrying a poor servant girl like her and cast her aside in favour of a wife more suitable, from a more appropriate station in life. It was a fear that had, for many of Cinderella's enemies, been a fondest hope. Serena, Grace, even Theodora perhaps, they had all dreamed of the day when Eugene would come to his senses, put Cinderella aside, and marry one of them instead. But it had never happened, and eventually Serena had resorted to trying to make it happen in an admission that it would not occur of its own volition. Cinderella was beyond such fears now, they seemed almost childish to her; and in any case she had - thank God - never been inclined to jealousy. Certainly she felt no need to be jealous of every other woman Eugene might dance with, however beautiful she might be. He had chosen Cinderella and she had faith in that choice, and in their love for one another. It was too great to be so swiftly broken, if at all.

"I envy you your confidence," Frederica said softly. "Although I worry I should pity it at the same time."

"Why?"

"Even men who love their wives can stray, especially when their wives are pregnant," Frederica said. "You may find that he-"

"No," Cinderella said firmly. "Eugene wouldn't do that."

"You seem very certain."

"If I wasn't absolutely certain I couldn't stay here," Cinderella said. "I'd rather go back to my stepmother and slave for her than stay with a husband who would treat me that way." _At least my stepmother's cruelty would be honest._ Even at her worst and most insecure moments Cinderella had never thought that Eugene would betray their marriage bed; she had feared he might dissolve their marriage, yes, but not that he would take lovers within the marriage. Never that.

Frederica was silent for a moment. "I hope you're right," she said. "Truly, I do. I suppose that I cannot fully embrace your optimism...although fate certainly appears to have blessed your faith so far."

Whatever Cinderella might have said in reply to that was forestalled by the appearance of Brigadier General Etienne Gerard, wearing the gaudy uniform of a hussar with gold brocade stretched covering the breast of his scarlet jacket. Tall, a little gaunt and with a nose that made him look a little like a bird of prey, Etienne was Prince Eugene's oldest and his closest friend. It was being neither unkind nor unfair to say that he had been no friend to Cinderella when first they met, but now she hoped and thought they understood each other better.

The fact that he was engaged to Cinderella's dressmaker Lucrecia, with their wedding now mere days away, was of some help in that regard.

Etienne sidled along the front of the crowd before offering Cinderella a bow. "Good evening, your highness."

"Good evening, general," Cinderella said, holding out her hand for him to kiss. "How are you? How is Lucrecia?"

"We are both well, although Lucrecia is growing a little impatient," Etienne replied. "It seems that our engagement seemed much longer for her here at home than it did for me in the field abroad."

Cinderella chuckled. "Well, neither of you have much longer to wait. I can't wait to see what Lucrecia looks like."

"Neither can I, ma'am," Etienne remarked. "And how are you feeling?"

Cinderella smiled fondly at the familiar question. "Very well, general, or as well as can be expected at least. Whatever discomfort I suffer, I know that it will be more than worth it in the end."

"I'm glad to hear it, ma'am," Etienne said. He glanced towards Eugene as the dance came to an end. "I understand Her Grace has engaged His Highness for the next dance also so, if you will do me the honour?" He held out his hand to her.

"I'd be delighted, general, but what does Lucrecia say to this?"

"Lucrecia says it's a crying shame for such a beautiful ball gown to be standing idle instead of dancing, ma'am," Etienne said.

Cinderella laughed. "I've no idea if you just made that up or not, but very well. I would be honoured to take your hand, General Gerard."

She placed her fingertips in his open palm and allowed him to lead her out onto the dance floor. It was a slow dance, and not too tiring to Cinderella as began to move across the ballroom. General Gerard was not a great dancer like Eugene, but he was precise in his movements and he knew the steps well enough.

"I confess, princess, that I had something of an ulterior motive in asking for your hand," he said.

Cinderella raised an eyebrow. "Indeed, general?"

"I thought that you might like to know just who has claimed Prince Eugene for the moment."

"I don't think I've ever seen her before," Cinderella said.

"No, you wouldn't have," Etienne replied. "She is the Duchess of Cornouaille, and she and her husband have been abroad since before you were discovered. Greece, I think. They've only just returned, I was a little surprised to see them here."

"Cornouaille," Cinderella mused. "I've read that name somewhere, but I can't quite remember where."

"The Duke is Prince Eugene's cousin, only son of His Majesty's late brother," Eugene said. "At present he stands second in line for the throne, although of course your child will knock him back into third place once born, and any future children will only push him further down the succession."

"I see," Cinderella murmured. She had known from her lessons in history and politics that His Majesty had been the elder of two sons, but the books she had been given to read had said little more than that, and Cinderella had gathered from speaking to Augustina that the two brothers had not gotten on with one another, and indeed had barely seen each other once they grew up. The younger brother had received a dukedom and had rarely stirred from it afterwards until his death. Augustina couldn't tell her why, and what she could say was mostly just gossip anyway. Cinderella hadn't asked His Majesty about it; it wasn't her place to pry into his past. "I suppose I should introduce myself to them once the dance is over."

"I'm sure that they will introduce themselves to you as soon as they notice that you have returned to the ballroom," Etienne said. "That is the proper way."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure you're right," Cinderella said. "When you say you were surprised to see them here, what did you mean? I've heard that the King's brother was a little reclusive, but are they the same?"

"Perhaps not reclusive, but…" Etienne hesitated for a moment. "I honestly cannot think of anybody who can claim to know them well. Make of that what you will." He frowned briefly. "I apologise, princess, it isn't my place to tell you what to think. You should make up your own mind."

Cinderella smiled. "I'll try my best, general; thank you."

The dance concluded, and Cinderella curtsied to Etienne – who bowed to her in turn – before she turned towards Eugene, who looked to her in turn with what seemed to Cinderella to be almost like relief on his face.

Cinderella picked up the folds of her gown and crossed the floor to where he stood side by side with the Duchess of Cornouaille. She was, Cinderella could see more clearly now that she was standing still and presenting her face, a few years older than Cinderella, although she was by no means old; she was, as Cinderella had thought when she first caught sight of her, very beautiful, with hazel green eyes accentuated by the dark shadow she had applied over them. Her hair, dark brown and soft looking, was worn in a large bun at the nape of her neck, and her head was crowned with a pearl-and-diamond tiara that was, if anything, even more magnificent than Cinderella's own. A luxuriant diamond and ruby necklace descended down from around her neck towards the neckline of her gown, which was fashioned of lace and almost transparent in places, so fine that the Duchess' skin showed through from beneath it.

As Cinderella approached, she was joined by a man whom Cinderella took to be the duke, Eugene's cousin: tall, with fair hair that was receding on top to leave him with a bald crown much like his uncle the King, his nose and chin alike were sharp leaving him with the impression of something of a glare in his blue eyes as he faced Cinderella.

Eugene held out one hand to her as she approached; a hand which she silently accepted. He said, "Cinderella, I'd like you to meet my cousin Henry and his wife Anne, the Duke and Duchess of Cornouaille."

Cinderella smiled. "I'm very pleased to meet you, your grace. I heard that you've been in Greece."

"Italy, actually," said Duchess Anne. "We were there for the last year, we've only just returned. Rome, Venice, Naples, all of the usual haunts, although we stayed mostly in Milan didn't we, darling?"

"Yes, dear, we did."

"Was it very pleasant there?" Cinderella asked.

"Oh, you have no idea, your highness," said Duchess Anne. "The culture, the history, why, we have brought back some twenty pieces of classical art and sculpture that were simply being left to decay, weren't they Henry?"

"Thirty pieces, dear, not counting the reproductions."

The Duchess smiled brilliantly. "My home is a temple to the relics of antiquity. The truth is I would live in Italy permanently but Henry insists that we must return home, if only infrequently, in order to take care of business."

"What sort of business calls you home this time, cousin?" Eugene asked. "Whatever it is, your business rarely leaves you the leisure to attend balls or galas."

Eugene had spoken in a light, almost frivolous tone, but Duke Henry's expression remained still and on the verge of seriousness. "I was as astonished as anyone in the world to learn that you had married while I was in Italy, your highness. I had resigned myself to the fact that the burden of the succession would fall upon me. Now I return to find that you are not only married but expecting an heir, how could Anne and I not come and meet the author of your good fortune?" He bowed his head to Cinderella. "You have done what I thought no woman could or would wish to do, and given this disreputable rogue a future."

"You're too kind, your grace," Cinderella said. "Eugene has given me so much more in turn."

"I'm so sorry that we missed your wedding day, your highness," said Duchess Anne. "We would have returned, but I was with child myself at the time and we didn't want to risk a sea voyage."

"Oh, I quite understand. So you have children?"

"Three," she said. "Two boys, Louis and Roland, and a girl, Matilde. They're my little angels. They fill up your life, that's true, but they also make it so much more than it was before, as you'll find out soon enough."

"I can hardly wait," Cinderella said.

They talked inconsequentially for a while, or rather the Duchess talked while the Duke said very little, so much so that by the time Cinderella realised that she and Eugene had been separated, with the Duke pulling Eugene in one direction while the Duchess linked arms with Cinderella and led her the other way, it was already a fait accompli for the moment.

Cinderella glanced over her shoulder, to find that Eugene had his back to her as the Duke held him in conversation.

"Why-" she began.

"Don't worry, princess, I've no designs upon you," said the Duchess with a laugh. "I simply wanted to have a word with you without your husband or mine listening in."

Cinderella looked at her. The two were of a height, both of them dwarfed by their much taller husbands, although the Duchess' slightly larger tiara made her seem a little taller than Cinderella at present.

"Very well," Cinderella said, though she would really rather have danced some more with Eugene, but she didn't want to appear rude especially not to Eugene's cousin and his wife. "What would you like to discuss, your grace?"

The Duchess smiled. "What was it like, ruling the kingdom?"

Cinderella blinked. Of all the things that she had thought the duchess might say, she hadn't expected that. "I beg your pardon?"

"You were regent," the Duchess said. "Prince Eugene was away, His Majesty was ill, and you took on the burden of rule by yourself. What was that like? Was it thrilling?"

"Not particularly," Cinderella said softly. "It was a lot of work, and I'm afraid it made me rather ill."

"Then why did you do it? You had to know it wasn't what anyone expected of you."

"I was told that there was no one else who could take on the position," Cinderella said.

"Yes, but nobody expected you to actually _do anything_ ," the Duchess clarified. "You must have realised that."

Now Cinderella understood what the Duchess meant, or thought she did. "Are you asking me why I didn't just sign what they told me to?"

"I suppose I'm asking you why you dismissed and appointed ministers, defied the privy council, sent laws to the assembly, all these things that we heard about even in Italy," said Her Grace. "I suppose that I'm asking you why you ruled, and what it felt like to do so."

Cinderella looked down for a moment. "As I said, your grace, I was too ill to really remember what it felt like to rule. It wasn't exciting, if that's what you're asking me. For the most part…it was very tiring. But I did it because…because I had the power to do the right thing, and since I had the power how could I not do the right thing?"

The Duchess' smile was fixed in place. "You must have been sure of yourself."

Cinderella chuckled. "You probably wouldn't say that if you knew me better, but…in that case, yes, I was as sure as I've been of anything."

"And you weren't worried about the consequences?" the other woman asked. "What people might think, what people might do? What they did?"

"I didn't think they'd go as far as they did," Cinderella said. "But even if I had known…I wouldn't have changed my decisions out of fear of them."

"You must be very brave."

"Not really," Cinderella said. "It's more that…I've received such kindness from people, even from some of the very poorest; I have to earn that kindness somehow. If I didn't do what I knew to be right to help them just because I was afraid I wouldn't be worthy of their love."

"Ah, yes, the people," the Duchess said softly. "Yes, they came to your rescue, didn't they? Very fortunate." She laughed for a moment. "Ironic, isn't it, that the ordinary people came to rescue the monarchy from the aristocracy. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?"

"I'm afraid I wouldn't know, your grace."

"Well, it hardly matters now, does it?" the Duchess replied. "You survived, and now you carry the heir to Armorique inside of you." She was silent for a moment. "Come, I'm sorry to have dragged you away from your husband like that. Let's go and rescue both our men from the terror of each other's company, and then I shan't bother you again for the rest of the night."

* * *

By the time that Eugene realised that Cinderella had been dragged away by the Duchess it was already too late to protest the act.

It was not, however, too late to demand an explanation. "What does your wife want with Cinderella, and why does she need her alone to get it?"

"Such an accusatory tone, Eugene, it's hardly necessary," Henry said genially, slipping his arm into Eugene's. "Anne just wants to talk with her, that's all."

"Prince Eugene."

"Hmm?"

"We're not children any more, your grace," Eugene said pointedly. "There are formalities to observe. And if Anne just wants to talk why can't she do it here?"

"I want to talk to you, Anne wants to talk to your wife, your highness," Henry said. "This way we won't be talking over one another. She's a pretty thing, isn't she?"

"If you mean Cinderella, then she's beautiful."

Henry shrugged. "All men should say that about their wives, but for me I'll settle for pretty as a descriptor. Not what I expected, I must say."

Eugene's eyes narrowed. "What did you expect?"

"Someone who seemed capable of all the things that the papers report of her."

Eugene snorted. "I don't know whether to tell you not to believe everything you read or to tell you that there is a lot more to Cinderella than meets the eye. The answer depends on just what you've read in the newspapers."

"That you let her run the country in your absence."

"And she did a splendid job-"

"And that she kept a harem of lovers while you weren't here," Henry continued. "Are you absolutely certain that the child is yours?"

Eugene's jaw tightened, and his hand clenched into a fist as he pulled roughly away from Henry. "If you ever say anything like that again I'll break your jaw, cousin or no. If you'd dared to say it where Cinderella could hear you I'd have done it already. She's had a rough enough time of it without you or Anne dredging up all that old nonsense. There wasn't an ounce of truth to any of it."

"You sound very certain for someone who wasn't here to witness any of it."

"I trust my wife!" Eugene snapped. "Would you believe any old reports about Anne? Would it make you doubt that your children were your own?"

"No," Henry allowed. "But my wife is a woman of good character."

It really was taking all the self-restraint that Eugene possessed not to haul off on Henry now, cousin or no, duke or no, crowded ballroom full of people who would be scandalised if he did it or no. In fact the main thing staying his hand at this precise moment was the knowledge that if he caused a scene and ruined the ball he would upset Cinderella, and he wouldn't have wanted to do that even without the fact that distress could be dangerous for a woman in her condition.

He forced his words out through gritted teeth. "What are you doing here, Henry? If you came here simply to insult my wife then you can clear out now."

"I meant no offence by it-"

"Oho!" Eugene gasped at the audacity of that. "You bring up false gossip, suggest that Cinderella has cuckolded me, insult her character and then you tell me that you mean no offence by it?"

"If any of those reports were true – and I believe you when you say that they were not – the fault would have been yours, not hers. Women are not meant to rule, it was wrong of you to put that burden upon her."

 _God help me, was I ever this insufferable?_

"Are you having fun, you two?" Anne asked as she reappeared with Cinderella. "I'm afraid I promised the princess here that we'd let her have her husband back. Henry, perhaps we should think about leaving now."

"Perhaps, yes," Henry said. "Your highness, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Thank you, your grace, it was a pleasure to meet you and your wife also."

Eugene sighed with relief as the two of them took their leave. Hopefully they would go back to Italy soon and he wouldn't have to see them again for a few more years.

"Eugene?" Cinderella asked, slipping her hand into his. "Are you alright? What did his grace want?"

"You really don't want to know," Eugene muttered. "What about Anne?"

"She wanted to talk to me about my regency, although I'm still not quite sure why."

"I always suspected she was the cleverer of the two of them," Eugene said. "Although it's hard to say because she's never done anything with her cleverness. Not that it really matters, I expect they won't stay long. Did you speak to Princess Frederica?"

Cinderella's face fell. "I'm afraid that she isn't able to help. She doesn't want to encourage people to leave by paying them to do so."

"I suppose I can understand that, although it is a nuisance," Eugene said.

"What are we going to do?" Cinderella asked. "Or recommend to your father to do?"

Eugene smiled down at her. "For now we are going to forget all about it and enjoy our evening. Shall we dance? Or are you too tired."

Cinderella slipped gracefully into his hold. "Too tired? No, I've been waiting too long."

They slipped out onto the floor as the new dance began, as Eugene held Cinderella tight and whirled her around. Looking down into her face, at her smile, at the way her blue eyes sparkled…how could anyone doubt her? How could anyone look at this woman, this perfect creature, and believe that she had the malice in her to betray him? How could anyone suspect her faith?

There was more to Cinderella than met the eye, so much more that he had discovered since they were married. But there were still moments like this, moments when they pressed their bodies close against each other with the music playing and the other couples seeming to fade into nothingness on the floor around them, when what met the eye was quite enough to content him.

* * *

The carriage of the Duke and Duchess of Cornouaille clattered across the cobblestones as it conveyed them back to their townhouse.

Anne personally didn't like the townhouse at all, far too small and cramped, an insult from the King to the brother he disliked, but it would have taken far too long to return to the estate after a night at the palace, and so – for now – the townhouse it was. They would adjourn to the estate later. Possibly.

It was also quite possible that affairs in the capital might keep them here for some while after.

That would be a decision for Henry to make, of course. He was the master, she was but his wife.

"What did you think of Princess Cinderella?" Henry asked, looking out of the window as the carriage rattled along.

Anne fondled the engagement ring upon her finger for a moment: a sapphire surrounded by diamonds, a kind of mirror image of the ring that sat on Cinderella's finger. "I found her dedicated, righteous, I might even say passionate. She clearly works hard."

"Is she intelligent?"

"There are many different kinds of intelligence, I'm sure that she possesses some of them," Anne said. "I would not call her wise."

"Indeed not?"

"No," Anne murmured. "A wise woman in this world does not allow herself to be revealed as dedicated, righteous or hard working. Still less intelligent."

As she spoke those words there was a part of her that rankled at them. A part of Anne, Duchess of Cornouaille, that wanted to rage and scream at herself for even speaking such words, and rage harder and scream louder at any who would nod approvingly at them.

It was that part of her that was torn between burning envy and a kind of admiration for Princess Cinderella.

There was a time when people had thought Anne to be clever. There was a time when she had been known at finishing school as something of a swot. She hoped that she was still clever, and that marriage to a rather thoughtless man had not dulled all her wits away completely. She could still construe in Latin and Ancient Greek, and speak Italian, Spanish, Turkish and English besides for whatever that was worth, when she had the rare occasion to use them – when they were in Italy, Henry did most of the talking.

But for the most part she spent her days in a sepulchral silence, publicly at least. It was not her place to speak out on politics, to propose great change, to make her views known. She was a doll, to wear a smiling face and a pretty frock and let the world impose its own opinions onto her. That was the way of the world.

But Cinderella had not been content to suffer that. Though she seemed mild, much milder than Anne had expected of someone who had done what she had done, she had transgressed the unwritten rules, she had grasped true power, she had done things and said things and made the country listen to her voice.

It was extraordinary. Extraordinarily envy inducing. Did Cinderella even realise how lucky she was to have been given that chance, and to have a husband who would tolerate it?

 _If she doesn't appreciate her good fortune then I think I might hate her. But she didn't strike me as the sort of woman who took anything for granted._

"Eugene is taken with her," Henry declared. "Violently so, in fact."

Had she been a more expressive woman instead of a human sphinx, Anne might have rolled her eyes. "Did you provoke him to violence?"

"I only asked if she was sure the baby was his own."

Had she been a more expressive, Anne would have certainly rolled her eyes. In fact she allowed herself to do so in the comfort that no one was watching her do so. "My love, that seems hardly polite of you."

"I never took Eugene for a fool," Henry said, ignoring her comment. "Yet he seems to think he can lie down with a dog and not get any fleas on him. Very confusing."

 _Perhaps it's because she's a woman, not a dog._ "What will you do?" Anne asked.

Henry said nothing for a moment. It could be that he was actually thinking.

Her husband wanted to be king. She knew that. She had known that from the moment she married him. His father had still been alive then, and he had dreamed of his line supplanting that of his detested brother on the throne of Armorique. And for a time that family dream had even seemed likely, if not yet in reach. Prince Eugene remained stubbornly a bachelor, with no known children, while she had given her husband one heir after another.

It looked less likely now, to say the least. An illegitimate son was one thing, but a legitimate heir on the way was something else altogether.

And yet…

And yet beneath the envy that she felt for Cinderella there was a trace of fear, too. Fear of what Cinderella might do. It was all very well to speak out, to take action, to do the things that you knew in your heart to be right without fear of consequence because your conscience and your morals wouldn't allow you to look back or hesitate but the truth was, and this was the only justification Anne could find for binding herself thus, the unwritten rules existed for a reason. Cinderella had almost brought down the monarchy with her ignorant and ill-informed meddling in affairs that were beyond her. She might yet do so. She hardly seemed the type to rest on her laurels, who knew what fresh crusade she might take up and what the consequences of it might be?

Who knew what damage she might yet cause?

Anne thought of her children. They should all be asleep at this hour, snug in their beds at home. She did not know if Louis would be king one day or not; she still had some hope for it, even if she was no longer certain. But even if he could not be king then she would at least see him become a Duke, inheritor of his father's title and estates.

She would not allow Cinderella to smash the monarchy and the establishment aside in her desire to effect change.

She would not allow Cinderella to take her son's inheritance away from her.

Henry had not answered, and continued to not answer, what he would do. But Anne already knew the answer.

For her children she would do anything.


	4. Slithering in the Garden

Slithering in the Garden

Eugene settled down in an armchair, resting his elbows upon the wooden arms. "Sit down."

"Thank you," Etienne said, as he threw his shako onto the table and took a seat opposite Eugene. "Not so much for the seat as for agreeing to see me."

Eugene waved that away. "I've nothing pressing to be getting on with. You know that Cinderella is having her ghastly stepfamily for tea."

Etienne's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "Really? I thought she couldn't stand them."

"I don't think she can," Eugene replied. "I think…I could be wrong, but it seems to me that she feels that she ought to make up with them out of a sense of…I hate to call it obligation but that's honestly how it seems to me."

"Obligation?" Etienne repeated. "We are talking about the people who worked her like a cart horse for most of her life?"

"Believe me, I had exactly the same reaction as you did," Eugene assured him. "She wants to make one of her stepsisters one of her ladies-in-waiting."

Etienne made a whistling sound. "To be perfectly honest…Princess Cinderella has many excellent qualities, but I think it must be admitted that she is too kind for her own good."

Etienne might have intended that to be funny, but Eugene didn't laugh. He didn't laugh because he had the same thoughts himself sometimes and it…well to be frank it worried him. People had already taken advantage of her trust and guileless nature and, while he loved that betrayal had not made her bitter or cynical, while he loved her ability to still smile in spite of all the troubles that had fallen upon her…he remained worried about what some potential new betrayer might do.

And yet there was nothing he could do about it, not without turning away from his promise to treat Cinderella as his equal. He would have to trust her in this.

"Cinderella will do what she thinks is best," Eugene said. "And if that includes having her stepsister attend her in her household…I'm sure, I hope, that it will work out for the best. Now, I'm sure that you didn't come here to talk about Cinderella or her stepfamily, did you?"

"No," Etienne admitted. "But if you have any difficulties I'll do what I can to help. Marinette tells me that you're looking to bring her highness' ladies back up to six."

"She's right, I insisted on it," Eugene said. "Your Marinette and Angelique do their best, but two is too few in my opinion, especially with Cinderella in her condition. She needs more help."

"All the same, considering what happened to the last lot I can't imagine that you're having an easy time finding volunteers from among the best families of the country."

Eugene made an affirmative noise with the back of his throat. It was true to say that being Cinderella's lady-in-waiting had not proven to be a guarantor of success in the past. Or rather it had, but only for those who had little or nothing to start with. Marinette, of the impoverished Gerard family, and Angelique Bonnet the homeless orphan, had both seen their fortunes improved considerably, acquiring lands, wealth and titles through their friendship with the princess. On the other hand, the de Montcalm and du Villeroi families, two of Armorique's oldest and grandest, had both fallen to ruin. It was not the best recommendation for good families to send their daughters to the palace, as he was finding as he wrote to them.

"I suppose one good thing about Cinderella's notion is that will leave me with only two names to find for her."

"Two?" Etienne asked. "I think your maths might be a little off there."

"I have the fourth lady already, or I hope I do. She should be arriving soon. A nice surprise for Cinderella, I hope."

"You're being very mysterious."

"I just don't want the truth to get back to Cinderella ahead of time," Eugene said. "Now, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Etienne fell silent. He looked down at the floor, and at his polished boots, and at just about everything – it seemed – except Eugene himself.

"It may not appear so," he said, after a while. "But I really do dislike asking you for things."

"You've only done so once, and that was for Marinette more than yourself."

"It's about to become twice, which is two too many in many respects," Etienne muttered. "And yet I'm about to do it anyway."

Eugene chuckled. "What's the point of being a good friend if you can't ask your friend for the occasional favour?"

"At one point do I stop being a good friend and start being my brother?"

"When you start making up salacious stories about our sexual relations to sell to the newspapers, judging by Lucien's behaviour," Eugene said dryly. "Have you heard from him at all?"

"No," Etienne said. "But it hasn't been very long, all things considered."

"Quite," Eugene said. "So, what is this favour that makes you so ashamed of yourself that you can't bring yourself to name it?"

Etienne fell silent again, for a moment and then a moment more. "As you know, thanks to my promotion I no longer have a regiment, and the organisation of the army is still in flux after the end of the war. And, as you also know, I'm getting married in just a few days-"

"You might have mentioned it once or twice."

Etienne gave him a sour look. "The…the office of deputy commander of the capital has become vacant. It is an appointment filled by the sovereign and I was hoping that…that you might put a word in your father's ear for me." He scowled, more at himself than at Eugene, and settled into his chair as if he were expecting to be flat-out refused.

Eugene did not such thing. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands together. It was not what he had expected, he had to admit. The post that Etienne was asking for would give him authority over the military units deployed in and around the capital city, including those used in a policing role. It was, in effect, the second highest policing roll in the capital, if not Armorique itself. He'd be answerable to the full commander, but he would also have broad powers over all save the Guards.

It was an ambitious request, and yet if anyone could be trusted with that kind of power perhaps it was Etienne Gerard. After all, this wasn't the kind of job you would give to anyone who wasn't a proven friend of the monarchy, and Etienne had proven his friendship many times.

"Not what I thought you were going to ask for," Eugene murmured.

"I have the rank for it. Now, at least."

"I wasn't disputing that you could get it," Eugene replied. "I was questioning…I suppose I never thought you'd want it. You realise it'll be mostly paperwork, and when it isn't that it will be more police work than soldiering."

Etienne smiled wryly. "Haven't we both had our fill of youthful glory? Or are you still eager to go charging off to foreign parts to carry the flag of Armorique."

"God, no," Eugene said. "I don't intend to leave Cinderella alone like that ever again." He paused. "Is it your forthcoming marriage that has brought this on?"

"We were both gone for months," Etienne said. "Apart from her. I should almost think myself fortunate that it was just for the war, but…what if one day the orders come for me to sail to America or India to command some garrison on the colonial frontier? What kind of unenviable choices will be left to me then? To leave Lucrecia behind and be separated from her by great oceans for years at a time? Or to drag her to the far side of the world, taking her away from the vocation she loves while sending our children back here to be raised by Marinette or my mother?"

"Of course, you don't technically need to stay in the army at all," Eugene said. "You have your family estate back, or part of it. You could sell your commission and live off the income of your lands, I should think."

"Probably I could," Etienne admitted. "But that doesn't necessarily mean that I want to. I…I am a patriot, I am ready to serve my country and when Armorique is threatened she will always find me ready to draw sword in her defence. But in a time of peace…can you really blame me for wanting a job in the city where I'll see more of inkwells than heathen tribesmen in far-off lands."

"Not at all," Eugene said. "Although…"

"What?"

"My father may not think that your investigation into the attempt on Cinderella's life qualifies you to take this post."

"Indeed," Etienne muttered. "Although, in my defence I would say that the police led me to believe that the republican secret societies were far less threatening than turned out to be the case. Make me your deputy commander and I'd gladly whip them into shape for you."

Eugene chuckled. "I honestly believe that you would do well in that post. And for that reason I'll speak to my father about it."

Etienne sighed with relief. "That is all that I can ask. Thank you."

"Did you speak to Mademoiselle Adessi about this?"

"No, I didn't."

Eugene sucked inwards. "I am hardly the person who should be giving advice, except to advise you to not make my mistakes. Talk to her, for God's sake, you'll be much happier in the long run."

"I have every intention of talking to my wife, our marriage will be very boring if I don't," Etienne said. "It's just…well, if I told her and she replied that she'd be quite happy to see me depart for foreign climes it wouldn't bode well for the marriage would it?"

Eugene let out a bark of laughter.

"No, but in all seriousness," Etienne said. "I don't want her to think that she forced me into anything I didn't want. And it isn't all about her. As I said, I've had my fill of glory."

"I think every man who marched with us would say the same," Eugene murmured.

Etienne nodded sombrely. "How is Philippe?"

"Very well."

"Not worried about his new half-sibling?"

"Cinderella has assured him that he isn't going to be replaced in our affections," Eugene said. "Would you like to visit him, I think I know where he'll be."

"Are you sure?"

"You've known him longer than I have, I'm sure he'll be happy to see you," Eugene said. "If you want to?"

Etienne smiled as he rose from his seat, and gestured for Eugene to lead the way.

* * *

"This is a mistake," Angelique said. "And you know that it is as well."

"Do I?" Cinderella asked, as she stood in front of the mirror fussing with the pearl necklace around her neck. "What makes you say that, Angelique?"

"Because you've been playing with the necklace for the last five minutes, you're stalling."

Cinderella's hands fell away from the pearls, letting them come to a rest hanging from her neck, not too tight around her throat. She hadn't been aware that she'd been doing that, but now that Angelique had brought it up…it was impossible not to notice that that was exactly what she'd been doing.

Cinderella had been ready for the last few minutes at least. Duchamp had departed as long ago. Cinderella was dressed and made up and had all the jewellery on that she would wear for this meeting. And yet here she was, standing at the mirror as if there was anything that she might actually change, fussing with a necklace that had been perfect to begin.

Cinderella didn't really know how to do this.

To be honest, she didn't really want to do this.

But she had to. It was the right thing to do.

Cinderella turned away from the mirror, her petticoats rustling as he skirt swirled gently around her, until she was facing Angelique who stood, arms folded near to the door.

"I suppose I am a little nervous," Cinderella admitted.

"Then don't do it," Angelique replied. "Just give the word and I'll go down there right now and tell them that you're…ill or indisposed or something, go away and don't come back."

"That wouldn't be very honest of me, would it?"

"You're pregnant," Angelique reminded her, as though Cinderella could have forgotten. "If you can't use the excuse that you're too ill to do something you don't want to do when you're pregnant when can you use it?"

"Never, if it's a lie, or you shouldn't anyway," Cinderella said. "And besides, it wouldn't be right."

"Neither is hugging a scorpion," Angelique declared flatly. She glanced at Marinette, sitting on Cinderella's bed watching her. "What about you, Marinette, you must think this mad as well."

"I wish you wouldn't talk like that, Angelique," Cinderella said gently.

Angelique bowed her head for a moment. "I meant, um…you think this is…ill-advised, don't you?"

"I don't know," Marinette said. "I've never met either of the Mademoiselles Tremaine – I didn't go to very many parties – but, from what I've heard…from what you've said…they were cruel to you. Weren't they?"

Cinderella was silent for a moment. _Oh no stop, please, stop!_ "Yes," she said quietly, so quietly that it was a miracle that either Marinette or Angelique could hear her. "They were cruel to me."

"Then why-" Angelique began.

"Because I married the prince," Cinderella said. "And you didn't."

Angelique looked absolutely nonplussed. "Well…obviously, but I don't see what that has to do with it other than that you can make st…questionable decisions and I can only argue impotently that you shouldn't do it."

Cinderella couldn't help but laugh, if only a little. She brought up one hand to cover her mouth. "No, I mean…why didn't you marry the prince, Angelique? Why me, and not you?"

Angelique blinked. She still looked completely baffled, as though she had no idea what the point of Cinderella's question was supposed to be. "I…I don't know. Because you're prettier than I am? Because my eyes don't sparkle in the moonlight the way that yours do? Because he didn't ask me? Because I already had a best boy and I didn't need another one. Ooh, no, I know this one!" She stuck her nose into the air, and began to twirl one of her golden curls around in her finger. When she spoke, it was in the imitation of the kind of plum-voice noblewomen who seemed to love nothing better than pouring scorn on Cinderella and her origin. "Because, although obviously I could have won His Highness' hand in marriage for myself at any point I wanted through my refined and sophisticated charms, I decided to have pity on you dear and let you have him, since you otherwise had so very little."

Marinette snorted. Cinderella giggled. "I'm being serious, Angelique," Cinderella said. "Or I'm trying to be, at least."

"Alright then, seriously, what is the point you're trying to get at because I'm not seeing it in the least bit."

"I married the prince and you didn't because I had a home," Cinderella said. "A home that they gave me. It may not have been a very nice home, I may not have liked it there in fact I couldn't wait to escape it when I had the chance but…but it was a home, nonetheless. And it was because I had a home that I received an invitation to the royal ball and without that…without that none of this would have happened. Whatever else my stepfamily is…whatever else they…did to me…I should acknowledge that. I've been remiss in failing to do so."

"Rubbish," Angelique said. "I'm sorry but…you didn't get to the ball and get all of this because of your stepfamily you got this because…seriously? You got it because you're better than we are. Better than me, better than Marinette – no offence, Marinette-"

"Oh, I quite agree," Marinette said. "Cinderella is the best of all of us."

"Right," Angelique said. "Because you're kind and passionate and you want the best for people in ways that I couldn't even begin to think about. Because you're the one that everyone can believe in. Look, there are a lot of things that I still don't understand about how you managed to get the fancy dress and everything to turn up and have his highness swooning over you like he was…but I don't reckon your stepfamily had a thing to do with it. You ask me…God, I'm going to start to sound as soppy and romantic as Jean here…it was fate. You were meant to be here, so that you could do the things that you've done and the things you're going to do to…to save the country for everyone else. You're…this was meant to be because you are the best person it could happen to."

Cinderella smiled gently. "That's very kind of you to say so, Angelique; but would it still be true if I didn't continue to do what I think is right?"

Angelique's mouth opened. Then it closed again. She pouted. "Well…hmph. Marinette you take over."

"Is this…is this what you really want?" Marinette asked.

"Honestly? No," Cinderella admitted. "What I want…the reason that I've been putting this off for so long…is because what I want is to never see them ever again. But I know that this is what I have to do. I won't feel right if I don't, especially now."

Marinette nodded. "Then Angelique and I will be right behind you. As we always are."

"Marinette!" Angelique cried. "What kind of an argument is that?"

"If it's what Cinderella wants, who are we to stand in her way."

Cinderella shook her head. "Why do you dislike this so much, Angelique?"

"Perhaps I just don't like seeing bullies get rewarded, it doesn't sit right with me," Angelique said. "Perhaps I think that we've had enough two-faced double-dealing little vipers around here and we don't need any more. And perhaps I just…perhaps I like it with just the three of us, perhaps I don't want that to change."

Cinderella began to walk towards her. "I understand what you mean, Angelique. There's a part of me that doesn't want it to change either. I like having you both here, knowing that I can trust you, and I don't feel lonely." She reached out her hands for the both of them. "I won't ever forget what the two of you did for me. How the two of you stuck by me, when few others did. You're both so dear to me. But Eugene says that I should have more ladies-in-waiting and he's probably right. I ask too much of both of you."

"We can do the work," Angelique said.

"We're very happy too," Marinette added.

"I know," Cinderella said softly. "But, since I have to have new ladies…I think one of the positions should go to one of my stepsisters, without whom I wouldn't be here. Honestly, I probably should have done this before my marriage, or at least when Theodora left us."

Angelique sighed. "I can't change your mind about this, can I?"

"No, Angelique, you can't," Cinderella said. "No one can." She hesitated for a moment. "Eugene thinks that I'm being silly as well, but…it would mean a lot to me if you could support me, both of you, the way that you have in the past."

"Of course," Marinette said, getting up off the bed and taking Cinderella's hand. "We'll support you whatever you decide to do."

Angelique was a little slower to take Cinderella's other hand. "Alright. Alright, if you're going to do this I'll…well, I'll have one eye on this woman but with the other…I'm right behind you. They're here now, aren't they?"

"Yes," Cinderella said. "They're waiting for me, and I've already kept them waiting far too long."

"Then let me come with you," Angelique said. "You…I don't want you to be alone in there with them. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm sure that they aren't going to try and hurt me," Cinderella said. "Especially not with a guard in the room."

"We both know that not all weapons leave bruises," Angelique replied.

That was true enough. And it was also true, as much as Cinderella felt a little ashamed of the fact, that she didn't really want to be alone in a room with her stepfamily. She didn't want to be alone with her stepmother ever again, and she didn't want…it was stupid and childish but she was afraid of them outnumbering her.

"Why don't…would you mind coming as well, Marinette?" Cinderella asked. "It will save on introductions later?" _And it will be three against three._

 _I shouldn't think like that…but I can't help it._

 _Is this such a good idea._

 _I don't know. I only know it's the right thing._

 _They were cruel to me, but they could have done so much worse._

 _Should they really be rewarded for that?_

 _Yes, or why should anyone show any mercy in future?_

"Of course I'll come," Marinette said. "If you really want me to."

"I do," Cinderella said. "I really do. Now, are we all ready?"

"Are you ready?" Angelique asked.

"Yes," Cinderella replied. "I think so." _I hope so._

And thus they left Cinderella's chamber together, leaving two of her guards – Labourdin and Bourgogne by name, Cinderella tried to remember the names of all the men who protected her – behind either on the door or in the room, while two more guards trailed behind the three ladies as they descended the many staircases.

"Good morning, Corporal Adragain, Private Gaheris," Cinderella said brightly to them. "How are you today?"

"Very well, your highness," said the corporal. It had been hard work getting them to reply at all, and they still said very little to her, but at least Cinderella was able to get them to answer simple questions like that.

"I'm so glad to hear it," Cinderella said. "And how is your sister?"

She asked questions like that as they descended the stairs, pausing only when she ran out of breath and needed to pause for a moment, and then when she ran out of questions to ask. Cinderella had realised long before that point that it was not, or not entirely, concern for the wellbeing of the men and their families that was driving her inquiries. She was asking to take her mind off what was to come.

Her stepmother was waiting for her. The woman who had torn Cinderella's blissful life to shreds and remade it in her cruel and heartless image. Her stepsisters, too, who had gleefully joined in the cruelty. They were all waiting for her at the end of this journey.

Cinderella was a princess. She was married to the prince and heir to the throne of Armorique. She wore a gown of the finest silk in pink and white, she had pearls around her neck and at her wrists. She had a priceless diamond on her finger. She was a princess, she had been regent of the whole country, she had made a treaty with a foreign nation and seen off an attempt at overthrowing her. She had endured the worst the press could invent to slander her.

But now, faced with the prospect of meeting her stepmother again, she felt as though she were a ten year old girl about to be shoved into the darkness of the pantry cupboard for misbehaving herself.

Her steps became heavier and heavier, and her hands began to tremble. In fact, no, it was her whole body trembling.

She was worthless. She was disobedient. She was a wilful brat who needed to be taught her manners. She didn't know how lucky she was. She deserved to be punished. She was worthless. No one could ever love someone as wretched as her. Anyone who claimed otherwise was deceiving her to break her heart later on. She was worthless. Anything for which she was blamed was her fault. She deserved to be punished. She was-

Cinderella stopped, as she felt Angelique clutching her hand tightly.

She looked down, Angelique's bare fingers entwined with the white silk that concealed Cinderella's hands from view. Her gaze travelled to Angelique's face, and the reassuring smile framed by those golden curls.

"We're right here, Cinderella," Angelique said softly. "We're both right here beside you."

Cinderella stared at her for a moment, and in that moment she felt almost as though she might break out in tears.

 _I am loved. I have friends. I have a devoted husband. I am surrounded by people who love me and they are none of them fooling me so they can hurt me later._

 _I'm happy, and I deserve that happiness._

 _You're wrong, Stepmother. You were wrong about everything._

"There's still time to change your mind?" Angelique offered hopefully.

"No," Cinderella said. "This will be alright. With you here, everything will be fine." As for taking Drizella into her household, she hoped that her stepsister would be different away from her mother and Anastasia. Who knew, in a different setting they might even be able to become friends.

Cinderella accosted a passing servant. "Excuse me, Madeline, do you know where Lady Tremaine and her daughters are waiting?"

"Of course, ma'am. Please follow me."

"Thank you, Madeline," Cinderella said, as the three of them followed Madeline to one of the parlour rooms towards the front of the palace.

Madeline opened the door, and Cinderella, her ladies and one of her guards – Corporal Adragain – walked in.

As she walked in to the sitting room, Cinderella saw her stepmother and stepsisters sitting together on a long settee, the colour of which was wholly obscured by its three occupants and their dresses, which spilled out over the furniture. Lady Tremaine sat in the centre, flanked by Drizella on the left and Anastasia on the right.

It had been nearly a year since she had last set eyes upon them, not since His Grace had taken her away from her stepmother's house and to the palace where Eugene had asked her to be his bride. Cinderella hadn't seen them since then. She hadn't wanted to see them since then.

But here they were, and by her invitation too.

 _With good fortune this will all end happily, and I will make friends with at least one of them. With good fortune things will be better this time around._

Cinderella took some comfort in the fact that they could have no motive to be cruel to her now. It would avail them nothing, and could cost them much. There was no reason for them to treat her as they had treated her before.

 _Then why do I feel as though they are the masters here, not me?_

 _I am loved. I have friends and I am loved._

None of them rose to their feet for her, and Cinderella didn't feel like making an issue of it even though they should have gotten to their feet, she being a princess. She hadn't come here to argue with them, after all, and she didn't want to seem petty and obsessed with status and ceremony.

Lady Tremaine spoke first, her voice languid and slow moving like treacle poured out of a jar. "Your highness. How wonderful to see you again, and after all this time too. I was beginning to think that you had forgotten us completely."

Cinderella instinctively bowed her head at the implicit rebuke in her stepmother's words. "I'm sorry, stepmother, I-" the words were out of her mouth before she even realised what she was doing. Was that a smirk of triumph on Lady Tremaine's face, or was she imagining it? Whether Cinderella had seen it or not, the truth was that her stepmother had won the first round. _Is this what it's always going to be like? Will she always seek advantage over me?_ For a moment, Cinderella was tempted to take Angelique's advice and send the three of them home at once. But that would be churlish of her, and unkind, and would make her no better than her stepfamily really. They had done her a kindness, whether they wished to or not, and they deserved some acknowledgement of and reward for it.

Everyone had their good points, it was just a matter of being willing to look hard enough to see them.

Cinderella cleared her throat, and tried to start again. "I apologise if you felt insulted by my silence towards you, Lady Tremaine; but I'm sure you understand that as a princess, especially in these hectic times, I've had a great many urgent matters to attend to." She could do this. If her stepmother wished to fence with her then Cinderella could trade thrusts and parries with her. She had been learning how, towards the end of her time in that house.

She only hoped it wouldn't be necessary with her stepsisters. If it was then having one around constantly could get very wearying, and she felt tired enough as it is.

Lady Tremaine made a sound that might have been a kind of low chuckle from her throat, as she bowed her head in acknowledgement of the point. "Oh, but of course, your highness. What with you illness, your regency and now your condition I am simply glad that you had time to see us at all."

"You didn't even invite us to the wedding," Anastasia muttered.

"No," Cinderella said softly. "I didn't. You must forgive me, girls, but growing up you seemed so uninterested in my marital prospects that I didn't really think you'd want to trouble yourself." She paused for a moment. "Introductions! Please forgive me everyone. Marinette, Angelique, may I present my stepmother, Lady Tremaine, and my stepsisters Anastasia and Drizella. Stepmother, Anastasia, Drizella, these are my ladies-in-waiting and good friends Marinette, Countess of Lorient, and Angelique, Countess Cherbourg."

"Mademoiselles," Marinette said. "My lady."

"Charmed, of course, ladies," Lady Tremaine replied. "Lady Gerard, isn't it? I do believe I knew your father. He threw the most splendid parties. Such a pity that he couldn't really afford them, in the end."

Marinette's cheeks began to turn pink with embarrassment as she mumbled something that Cinderella couldn't make out, and she doubted anyone else could make out either. Angelique looked as if she was half a breath away from saying something very loud and rather unkind.

"On the other hand you, Lady...it's Lad Bonnet, isn't it?" Lady Tremaine continued. "I'm afraid I don't know your father at all."

"That isn't very surprising," Angelique declared. "I don't know him either." She said it with such an utter lack of shame, such an unabashed and stony honesty that it was almost wonderful. She was telling Lady Tremaine that she couldn't be cowed by mention of where she had come from even if that place ought to have embarrassed her.

Yet Cinderella hadn't brought her ladies in here so that they could fence with her stepmother, and now she moved to forestall any further conflict between them. "Angelique and Marinette are both very dear friends of mine," she said, trusting that her stepmother was intelligent enough to understand what she was really saying. _I won't tolerate you picking on them. You can wield your weapons against me if you want to, but leave them out of it._ "Shall we sit down, ladies?" she gestured to the seats opposite the settee on which her stepfamily had placed themselves, facing one another across a low, rectangular table. As she sat down, Cinderella said, "Anastasia, Drizella, how are you both?"

They both looked well, or as well as they had when Cinderella had seen them last. Better, if the lack of expressions of poleaxed surrpise as though they'd been hit on the head with something counted as an improvement. On the other hand, the expressions of supercilious disdain with which they had been wont to regard her were starting to creep back into their faces, as if they couldn't regard her as anything other than their servant girl. Hopefully that would change in time.

Cinderella also noticed, as she sat down and smoothed out the folds of her skirt with her hands, that her stepsisters' clothes were a little less well-maintained than they had been before. Then hems of their dresses were starting to fray, and their were little nicks and the beginnings of tears to the large, puffy shoulders. Cinderella gathered that they had neither found a new maid of all work nor learnt themselves to do the things that she had done to keep their gowns as near pristine as possible.

 _Although I'm a little surprised that they haven't bought new dresses. Is there so little of my father's money left?_ Cinderella's father had not possessed great swathes of land across the country, as many great families - and Marinette and Angelique now - possessed. He had left his wife no continuous income from rents on his estates; rather his fortune had been made in trade and shrewd investments, and he had left his wife and family the accumulation of that fortune. Cinderella knew that her stepfamily could spend with wild abandon when the mood took them but she could never have imagined that they could have used it all up by the time she and her stepsisters were twenty.

 _I suppose Papa would have hoped for us all to be married and in the care of husbands by now, but still._

"Huh!" Anastasia huffed. "As if you care!"

"I do care, Anastasia," Cinderella said. "Is something wrong?"

"Is something wrong?" Anastasia asked incredulously. "Who do you think you are sitting here, lording it over us as though you're so special while we eat burnt food for every meal because you're not around to do the cooking? And how are we supposed to find a good husband now with all of our dresses looking like this because you're not taking care of us the way you're supposed to do. If you care about us so much then why don't you get-"

"Do you have any idea how obnoxiously self-centred you sound?" Angelique demanded.

"Angelique, please," Cinderella said. "Are things so bad for you?"

"We have our troubles, as many do," Lady Tremaine said. "The roof is starting to leak, fortunately it is only in your old room for now but I fear it will not stop there. We have...not been able to secure any new servant to fill the gap in the household left by your absence."

"Why not?" Cinderella asked. "You really can't find anyone?"

Lady Tremaine did not respond, and Cinderella guessed that they really had used up almost all of her late father's money but Lady Tremaine was too proud to admit the fact to her. Or else she trusted Cinderella to be able to work it out without her having to admit the fact.

A silence settled between them; Cinderella wondered if Lady Tremaine was waiting for her to offer them money to help them in their hour of need. She did not do so. Cinderella had seen where that road ended; she had give out money before to those she thought her friends, only to learn that they had not seen her as a friend but only a bank they never needed to repay.

She did not intend to repeat the mistake with people whom she had - at present, at least - no reason to call friends whatsoever.

The silence continued for a moment until Cinderella said, "Shall we have tea? Marinette, would you please ring for some?"

Marinette rang, and tea was brought. Madeline poured it out for all present before she withdrew, leaving behing the pot and a plate of freshly baked biscuits which Anastasia and Drizella gleefully tucked into.

"I hope you will forgive my bluntness, your highness," Lady Tremaine said. "But may I ask why you have suddenly asked us here to have tea with you? I cannot believe that after all these months it is simply because you missed us."

Cinderella lowered her gaze for a moment, and hesitated. _Now comes the moment._ "No, you're quite right, Lady Tremaine. I invited you here...I asked you to join me...so that I could thank you."

Drizella sounded as though she was about to choke on her biscuit. Crumbs fell from her mouth as she started to speak with her mouthful. "Thank us? What do you want to thank us for?"

"Drizella, please," Lady Tremaine said magisterially. "A lady does not speak with her mouth full."

Drizella bowed her head and swallowed. "Yes, mother. I'm sorry."

"Quite alright, my child," Lady Tremaine said, passing her a napkin. "So long as you do not repeat the error in the best company."

Angelique sucked in her breath at that, and looked at Cinderella as though she were expecting some sort of response from her. Cinderella let it pass, not because she hadn't hear but because...well, what would be the point, really? She wasn't going to change her stepmother's mind by being prickly about such things, or swelling up with offence every time her stepmother tried to slip an insult past her.

"Since I became a princess," Cinderella said. "I have become aware of how awfully the poorest in Armorique suffer, and in what deplorable conditions. Homelessness, hunger, sleeping on the streets exposed to the wind and the rain and the cold. Whatever else happened in the past you spared me from that, and in the process you gave me opportunities even if you didn't intend to. And for that I ought to thank you, and ask your forgiveness for delaying doing so for so long."

Drizella wiped at her mouth with the napkin. "If you want forgiveness, maybe you can-"

"What my daughter was about to say, possibly with improper decorum," Lady Tremaine said. "Is that, although gratitude is always greatly appreciated, your highness, and although forgiveness is always available to the penitent, at present it would be well if your gratitude were to take a more tangible form, if we are to avoid joining the ranks of those unfortunates you mention."

 _They must be desperate, if they are asking so baldly._ Cinderella had told herself she would not do this, but faced with a request put in such a way, faced with the reality that their circumstances must be dire for her stepmother to humble herself in such a way...she had no desire to see them turned out of their house, her father's house, and forced to live as Jean and Angelique had once lived. "I will give you three hundred pounds a year, out of my income, for five years." Cinderella said. Technically it was Eugene's income, but he had given a portion of it over to Cinderella to do with as she wished. "By that time, hopefully any further help from me will not be necessary."

"We can only hope, your highness," Lady Tremaine. "After all, my daughters are still young and I continue to hope that they will good marriages capable of supporting them in the comfort which they deserve."

"Indeed," Cinderella said. "I would also like to offer Drizella a position in my household, as one of my ladies-in-waiting. There are several vacancies that need to be filled."

Drizella's eyes widened. "Why-"

"That is exceedingly generous, your highness, and an honour that Drizella would be only too delighted to accept," Lady Tremaine declared magisterially. "Would she be required to take up her duties at once."

"If that is possible," Cinderella said. "If not, then-"

"Of course, highness, if you will only allow her to return home briefly and collect her things, then she can return here at once."

To be honest, Cinderella had expected a short delay. "Of...of course," she said. "I'll have a room made up for her immediately."

"Then we shall return home immediately," Lady Tremaine said. "Thank you, your highness, for the invitation and for your subsequent generosity. Your kindness continues to astonish. It is clear to see how you have so easily won the love of so many across the nation."

"I..." Cinderella hesitated, looking for a trap in her stepmother's words but, surprisingly, finding none. "Thank you, stepmother. It's very good of you to say so. Are you sure that you don't want to stay longer."

"Oh, I see no need to further impose myself upon you at this time, your highness," Lady Tremaine said. "I think we've both got everything we came for."

She pushed herself to her feet using her walking stick, and gestured for her daughters to do likewise.

Lady Tremaine curtsied to her. "Your highness."

"Lady Tremaine," Cinderella replied. "Thank you so much for coming. I hope you all enjoyed yourselves here. Drizella, I look forward to seeing you again and getting to know you better."

Drizella didn't reply. It was Lady Tremaine who said, "Your Highness, please believe me when I say that this is more than I dared to hope for."

And then they left, and Cinderella was left alone with Angelique and Marinette and with her silent and statue-like bodyguard.

"You shouldn't have let them talk to you like that," Angelique declared. "She was insulting you the whole time."

"How does that make her any different from the noble women who insult me every time I try to talk to them?" Cinderella asked.

"It's no different at all, but you shouldn't have to put up with that either."

"I know that my stepmother doesn't like me," Cinderella said. "She never has. But I hope that now things can begin to change between us."

"You hope?" Angelique couldn't keep the scepticism out of her voice.

"Yes, I hope," Cinderella replied. "Without hope I would have given in to Serena and Grace, without hope I might have lost faith in Eugene. Without hope...without hope I would never have remained myself after all that my stepmother did to me. You know, when I left her house to marry Eugene, my stepmother told me that being a princess would change who I was. She told me that it would make me unkind, a liar, bitter and cold. She was wrong about that. My hope stopped that from happening. I didn't change, or at least I don't think I did, but now I hope that she can."

* * *

Lady Tremaine was able to keep her daughters silent and subdued throughout their exit from the palace, and into the hired carriage - their finances, at least would stretch to such on rare occasions. It was only when they were all three of them bundled into a coach that was too small for three of them, packed tightly against one another on their rickety journey back home through the streets of the capital, that Drizella spoke.

Or rather squawked indignantly. "Mother! What were you thinking sending me to wait on...on her! I won't do it and you can't-"

"Quiet!" Lady Tremaine's voice cracked like a whip, and Drizella fell silent at her command. "You will do as you are told, Drizella."

"But why, mother?" Anastasia asked. "Why should either of us humiliate ourselves in front of her? Seeing her with the prince all the time, I think she just wants to rub our noses in it."

Lady Tremaine suppressed a sigh of frustration. Her daughters lacked subtlety, and understanding of the motives of others, but she had been aware of those flaws in them for years and it was too late to correct them now. They attributed to Cinderella the motives that they would have had in such a situation. If they had won the prince's hand it would never have occurred to either of them to offer Cinderella such a post except as a means of establishing their own superiority. The fact that Cinderella was not like them, and that her motives were not theirs, was something they could not understand.

"Cinderella has done this because she believes that she does us a kindness," Lady Tremaine explained, hoping that it would stick at least on the surface of their minds. "We will allow her to continue to believe that because she must continue to believe it or the chance will be lost."

"The chance?" Drizella repeated. "What chance?"

Lady Tremaine's mouth twitched into a kind of smile, or perhaps it might be better described as a smirk. "There are paths to wealth and influence that do not involve a wedding ring." It was clear to Lady Tremaine, as it had been clear to her when Serena de Montcalm had tried to enlist her in her foolish plot, that there was no ground to be gained in attempting to undermine the royal marriage. It stood too firm, having withstood the impact of Prince Eugene's child it was hardly likely to crumble from external effort. Not to mention, as much as she loathed to admit the fact, his highness was not likely to permanently put Cinderella aside for one of her daughter. Permanently being the important word in that situation. "Cinderella is carrying a child, and while she does so she will be unable to address His Highness' needs. Very likely the prince will take a mistress, as many men do while their wives are pregnant; if you can be the one to get into his bed, Drizella, then we shall have gifts and wealth and maybe even influence." If Drizella could get with child by his highness too then that child would doubtless have lands and titles bestowed upon him to avoid a scandal, but Lady Tremaine did not mention that to her daughter.

Drizella's dark eyes gleamed at the possibility. "Oh, yes, and won't she just hate it! I can't wait to rub it in her face that the prince is-"

"Whatever you do you must not antagonise Cinderella directly," Lady Tremaine said. "Be friendly to her, gain her trust, and she too may grant you want we need, a marriage for your sister perhaps, or even a little extra money. If Cinderella suspects what you are doing she will cast you out. You must seduce the prince and the princess both, the one as a lover but the other as a friend. Cinderella must never suspect how much we hate her."

Cinderella was their princess, and that was a fact which had to be lived with no matter how much Lady Tremaine might detest the fact. Therefore, the only thing to do was scurry about at the edges of her power and snatch what little morsels could be taken.

And never let her know that they were doing so.

* * *

Jean walked cautiously down the cul-de-sac, with one hand upon the hilt of his sword.

He was down in the area of China Dock, more specifically in the little alcove between three warehouses that almost, but not quite, backed onto one another and were used to store all kinds of goods that the merchant ships brought back with them from eastern parts.

He moved cautiously because he hadn't been truly part of the streets and their almost hidden community for some months now. He became more and more of the palace with each passing day, and with each day his familiarity with the world he and Angelique had left behind grew fainter. People left, people died, some people even found ways to escape that, though less dramatic than his own, were no less effective in rescuing them from this life. He couldn't really claim to know this world any more. At best he could say that he remembered it, and his memories grew increasingly unreliable.

Plus, the docklands had never really been his part of town; but he remembered that Oscar and those she took under her wing had lived - for want of a better word - in this place. Once upon a time at least.

It was all he really had to go on.

"Nice coat," came a voice from behind him, a girl's voice, hard and cold. "A man in a nice coat should maybe think twice about wandering around places like this. People are going to see it, and want it."

Jean's back straightened. "This coat is the uniform of a lieutenant of the King's Household Foot." He turned around to look at the person who had snuck up behind him. "And I'm not scared of you, Oscar."

Oscar - strange name for a girl, he had always thought, but he'd never known her well enough to ask how she came by it - was of a height with him, which made her a little taller than Angelique but almost as tall as the princess. Her hair was short, and a dirty red that fell to just below her ears. Her face was stained with soot and her hands - including the hand in which she held a knife - were likewise. She was wearing a fairly nice coat of her own, one that seemed almost like a uniform jacket, blue with white facings, although the amount of dirt on it made it difficult to say for certain.

"No," she said. "You never were, were you? What do you want, little bull? I heard you and your angel got out. I heard you were something fancy now."

"You heard right," Jean said. "Her Highness Princess Cinderella took pity on us."

"Why you?" Oscar demanded.

"We saved her life."

"Ooh, you're a lucky pair then, aren't you. Right place at the right time sort of thing?"

"Something like that," Jean said.

"So what are you now? A soldier?"

"An officer," Jean said. "And a count."

Oscar whistled. "You are lucky. You got all that for saving her life one time?"

"It was three times, so far, and a few other things," Jean replied. "But...yes, her highness has been very generous to us both."

"So what are you doing down here, then?" Oscar asked. "Has she gotten fed up with you."

Jean didn't reply to that directly. "How are you Oscar? How's the gang?"

"There is no gang, it's just me and Penny; right now, anyway," Oscar said sharply. "What do you want, Jean Taurillion? You don't belong here no more. So what are you doing down here?"

"How would you like to be free of all this?" Jean asked. "How would you like to have a roof over your head and to know where your meals were coming from? How would you like your dinners to be hot?"

Oscar scoffed. "I'd like that. I'd like a pocket full of diamonds too, and servants to shine my boots and a family. They're no more going to happen than anything you said."

Jean grinned. "I can't promise the diamonds or servants, but I wasn't joking. I mean what I said: you can have them all if you want them."

Oscar's hazel eyes narrowed. "How?"

"I need people to protect her highness," Jean said. "To sleep in the same room as her in case anyone comes in trying to hurt her, to watch over her while she's in the bath or getting dressed. That sort of things. Things only a woman can do. I thought of you."

Oscar stared at him for a moment. Then she laughed as she thrust her knife into her belt. "You came down here in your fancy coat to ask me to be some kind of royal bodyguard? That's not normal, is it?"

"No," Jean said. "But I have to keep the princess safe from her enemies."

"So it's dangerous then, what you're talking about."

"It might be," Jean admitted. "I don't know for certain."

Oscar stared at him for a moment. "This sounds ridiculous. You wanting me to become a soldier."

"Technically speaking you'll be a maid," Jean said. "You'll just be expected to do...different things. But you'll get paid, you'll get fed and you'll get...well, you'll have to sleep on the floor but you'll get a blanket."

Oscar was silent for a moment.

"What else are you going to do?" Jean asked. "Go to the workhouse? Live like this until you're old and nobody's scared of you? You and I both know that no one lasts that long out here. It ends, one way or the other."

Oscar didn't acknowledge his point, but she didn't need to. They both knew it was the truth. "She's been good to you, this princess?"

"Better than either of us deserved."

Oscar's nose twitched. "I suppose the floor can't be harder than the ground. Penny comes too?"

"Of course," Jean said softly.

"Why me?"

"You're the toughest girl I know," Jean said.

Oscar snorted. "Don't let your angel hear you telling her that."

"Don't let her hear you call her angel, she doesn't like it," Jean said.

"Fair enough," Oscar said. "Okay, little bull, I'm in. Hey...is everyone going to know what I'm doing or is this a secret thing."

"I...I don't know, I hadn't thought about it. I suppose...some will know, and some won't. Some people...some might not like it if they knew, and some we don't want to know."

"These enemies she might or might have, you aren't sure?"

"Yes."

"How can you not be sure if she has enemies or not?"

"Because some were stopped, and some stopped what they were doing," Jean replied. "And when it comes to the second...I just don't know if they've stopped for good yet, but I mean to be ready in case they haven't."

* * *

Hidden within the deep woods of the Lorient, in a small clearing joined to no path or road, Grace du Villeroi held court.

It was not much of a court, all things considered: her mother, her brothers, her maiden sister, her ogreish servant Rolf and Anatole de Montcalm, who had abandoned his sister for her sake and joined his fortunes to hers.

He looked as though he was not completely free of regret over that decision. His face was drawn and pale and he had ceased to smile, for now anyway. That would change, when things started to go their way again. If not...then Grace would cease to find him enjoyable and when that happened...what use would there be in him?

For now, however, he remained. Grace had few enough friends or supporters remaining to cast aside those that remained.

It was Cinderella's doing. Serena's stupidity had played a role, as had Grace's foolishness in joining her enterprise to Serena's plans but for the most part all their troubles, the ruin of their house and the smashing of their plans they all came down to Cinderella.

Grace came from a family of witches. The name of their line had changed over the years, hiding beneath the names of the various men who had sired the magical daughters who would continue the traditions of their ever-shifting family, but those traditions themselves had always remained. Gradually this line of witches had clawed themselves up from the despised outcasts of society, hiding their gifts and marrying well until they were placed within the aristocracy itself. Grace suspected that Cinderella's own story was not too dissimilar; she had the gift of speaking to beasts and birds, if not all of them, and a fairy had attended on her birth. Perhaps her mother had been a witch, but died too early and too suddenly to pass the craft on to her daughter. Perhaps there was but a touch of magic in the princess' line, that had manifested itself in Cinderella after long dormancy in those who came before.

Whatever the truth, Cinderella was no witch herself and thus it had galled Grace to see her grand ambitions - to breed magic into the royal line itself, a witch queen or a warlock king to rule over the realm - thrown astray by Cinderella, this girl from nowhere whose fairy magic had allowed her to defeat all challengers and claim the prize.

Grace...Grace had been a fool. She had deceived herself, as Serena had deceived herself, into believing that Prince Eugene's infatuation with Cinderella was a passing fancy, that his marriage was a mistake he would swiftly regret and when he did...when he did she had planned to be waiting. That was why she had fawned upon and flattered Cinderella, that was why she had entered her household as a lady-in-waiting, that was why she had attempted to undermine Cinderella, painting her as a frivolous spendthrift while Serena created stories of adultery to feed the newspapers.

It had all rested on the assumption that the royal marriage could be broken; an assumption which, on the basis of a clear-headed examination of the evidence, had proven to be incorrect.

Eventually they had resorted to force to get their way, and they had failed at that as well when the greater force of the common people of the capital had risen up against them.

Which brought Grace and those who stayed true to her to where they were now: landless, hunted, stripped of wealth and title; hiding in a wood and spying on their enemies by magic.

They had not been in the Lorient all this time. At first they had fled the country and then, when the hunt for them began to slacken, they had returned. And a good thing too for their spying, in their scrying the waters, Grace had learned something interesting.

"Pregnant," she whispered. "She's pregnant."

Had Serena been present it would have been her greatest fear made real: a child, an heir of Cinderella's blood to follow Prince Eugene on the throne and make all efforts to dissolve the marriage or supplant Cinderella utterly pointless. But, considering that it had - with the benefit of hindsight - always been pointless then Grace was less inclined to consider an unborn child an insurmountable obstacle.

For the purposes of the revenge that she had planned on Cinderella, whether she was with child or not was quite irrelevant.

"Pregnant," Anatole muttered. He sounded defeated. He sounded as though he had succumbed to despair and lost all hope. "Well that's it then, isn't it? It was a mistake coming back here, we should have made for Flanders."

"We aren't beaten yet," Grace declared. "And our road lies not to Flanders but to Brest."

Anatole's eyes bulged. "You...you want to go back? You want to go back to the capital. And do what, get arrested?"

Grace shushed him. "Calm yourself, my love. There is method in all that I do. And I do not intend to return home only to rot in jail. Rolf, go and find me a pretty peasant girl and bring her back here. Mother, sister, help me gather up the ingredients for a love potion."

"Isn't it a bit late for a love potion?" Anatole asked. "And you told me there weren't much use anyway."

"Not enough use to be worth drugging the prince," Grace admitted. "Not once he was married, and there was no opportunity to slip one to him before then. But I'm no longer interested in gallant, charming Prince Eugene. He has made his bed with Cinderella, and he had can lie there as it becomes a bed of serpents."

Anatole shuddered. "Then who? What are you going to do?"

"In chess, there are neither prince nor princess, only king and queen," Grace said. "Cinderella has been allowed to behave like a queen, to live like a queen, to give commands and be treated like a queen. But soon...soon Armorique shall have a true queen once again, and Cinderella will be reminded that she was only ever a pawn who dreamed of crossing the board and climbing above her station."

* * *

 _Author's Note: So…at one point (that point being at about 1.30 AM last Sunday when it was too bright to get back to sleep and I was lying awake thinking about this story) I actually considered the idea that Eugene would have an affair while Cinderella was pregnant. I even got as far as wondering who his mistress might be._

 _Then, by about 2.30 AM, I'd remembered four very important things:_

 _First, I'd written Eugene as flawed but never as that much of an ass._

 _Second, even Cinderella with all the patience and kindness of a saint would probably find it quite hard to forgive actual infidelity on his part._

 _Thirdly, even if Cinderella did find it in her heart to forgive I was pretty sure that you, the readers, would never forgive him for treating Cinderella that way; I'm still not entirely sure that Darkmaster of the Arts has forgiven Eugene yet for the way he behaved regarding Philippe and that wasn't nearly as bad as what I was contemplating in my fugue state._

 _And finally, the kind of edgelord Cinderella adaptation where Prince Charming turns out to be a cheating dick because 'realism' or 'darkness' or whatever is exactly the sort of thing I wrote the Rose and the Crown to respond to._

 _So, yeah, that_ _ **will not**_ _be happening; but I included the fact that both Frederica and Lady Tremaine think that it will as a kind of in-joke at my own expense._

 _Let that be a lesson not to plan stories when you should be sleeping._


	5. The Happy Return

The Happy Return

Cinderella knelt on the floor and vomited.

Because she was a princess, she had the luxury of vomiting into a large china chamber-pot rather than a bucket, but that was about all the additional dignity that her exalted rank and social station afforded her in the face of her body's rebellion against her will.

 _It will all be worth it,_ Cinderella told herself. _In less than eight months time I won't even remember this moment. All I'll care about is my child. All of this will be worth it._

But did it have to feel so terrible to get there?

Cinderella gagged, her body jerking up and down like a fish on the end of a line as she felt the harsh, sour, strangely hot substance rising up her throat, scratching as it went. Cinderella's vision was blurred with the water in her eyes, she struggled to breathe as she fought to expel all of the vomit rising up her throat out of her mouth. She was left leaning over the bowl, gasping for breath as her throat clenched up as though trying to gag, as her mouth felt hot and smelt rank from the awful substance that had so recently filled it. Her hands shook. Her whole body trembled. There was so much water in her eyes that everything was still a blur.

Considering that meant she didn't have to see every detail of the contents of her stomach that fact might have been a blessing, Cinderella considered as the water ran down her face like tears.

She felt a hand upon her back. "How do you feel now, ma'am?"

Cinderella gasped for breath. When she spoke, her voice was small and hoarse. "Water...please."

"Of course, ma'am," Duchamp said. "Here you are."

Cinderella wiped her eyes so that she could better see the glass of water being handed to her. She took it in one trembling hand which, fortunately, didn't quite trembled enough to spill, and took an unladylike gulp of water before swallowing.

Her throat felt foul. Cinderella took a second gulp and spat into the chamber-pot. She was disgusted to see various ugly specks of red, yellow and brown floating in the water before it descended quickly into the mass of vomit before her.

Cinderella pushed the chamber-pot away from her as she straightened her back and knelt up. "Thank you, Duchamp," Cinderella said softly, before taking another deep breath. "I think it's passed for now. Would you please pass me a handkerchief?"

"No need, ma'am, I'll do it," Duchamp said, as she began to dab at Cinderella's mouth for anything that had stuck there during her discomfiture. "Are you feeling better now, ma'am?"

"Not really," Cinderella admitted. "As a matter of fact I feel rather tired. And thirsty. Do you think I have time for a spot of tea before I have to leave?"

Duchamp's face was pinched with concern. "If I may, ma'am, I think that General Gerard and Mademoiselle Adessi would understand perfectly if you were to send your apologies."

Cinderella shook her head. "I don't want to miss my friend's wedding, Duchamp. And if I told Eugene that I was feeling too ill to go then he'd assume the worst and probably stay himself to keep an eye on me, and I don't want Eugene to miss his best friend's wedding. I'll manage."

"I have to say, ma'am, I am not so sure of that," Duchamp said. "You have been vomiting very often."

Cinderella said. "If I start to make a scene I'm sure that Eugene will take me home straight away," she said. "But I want to at least try to go. Now, do you think that I have time for tea before I have to get ready?"

Duchamp glanced at the clock on the wall. "I think so, ma'am. I'll ring for Constance and send word, with your permission. I'd rather not leave you alone like this."

Cinderella's smile was slight, weary and just a little wan. "I'd rather not be left alone, Duchamp, thank you."

Technically speaking she would not be alone even if Duchamp left to get tea. Oscar and Penny, the two girls that Jean had brought back with him from his little trip into the city, were in the sitting room, while Jean himself was outside the door along with Private Junot. But she didn't know the two new girls and Junot, like most of her guards, rarely spoke and even more rarely in complete sentences. None of them - except perhaps Jean who would be reluctant to come into the bedroom given that Cinderella was only half-dressed - made her feel comfortable and cared for the way that Duchamp did.

As Duchamp walked towards the bell pull by the bed, the bedroom door opened to reveal Cinderella's two guards - fortunately both with their backs to the doorway - and Angelique, who's eyes widened a little and who shut the door as soon as she was inside.

"How do you feel?" Angelique asked.

Cinderella looked down at her hands, resting on her knees. "I feel a little tired. How do I look?"

"Unwell," Angelique said. "Marinette told me to tell you that if you're not well enough to come then everyone will understand."

Cinderella chuckled. "I might send you back to tell Marinette that I have every intention of going and it will take more than this to stop me...but she's already gone, hasn't she?"

Angelique nodded. "The general came to pick her up and take her to the church."

It was the day of Etienne and Lucrecia's wedding, which was why it was particularly bad luck that on today of all days Cinderella's vomiting had gotten much worse. All the same, so long as she was physically able to go Cinderella intended to attend the wedding. She wasn't going to spend her entire pregnancy just sitting back in bed doing nothing and having things done for her. That wasn't what she wanted.

Cinderella got out of the immediate path of the doorway as Duchamp rang, and sent Constance down to get some tea.

"Angelique, would you mind going downstairs and inviting Drizella to join us?" Cinderella said. "I think it would be very unkind not to."

"How many years did you live with her?" Angelique asked.

Cinderella counted in her head. "Ten," she said. "Or actually it might have been almost eleven. But my father was alive for the first year, so everyone was very kind."

Angelique shook her head. "I don't know how you managed it."

"Please don't be too hard on her," Cinderella said, with just a touch of reproach. "She deserves to be given a chance, as we all do."

"Alright, I'll try," Angelique said, as she left to go and fetch her.

Cinderella sat down on the corner of her bed, running her fingertips over the blanket. "Everyone seems to think I made the wrong decision about Drizella. Even Eugene." She glanced up at Duchamp. "What do you think, Duchamp?"

"I haven't had occasion to assess the young lady's behaviour, ma'am," Duchamp said.

Some of Cinderella's hair had started to fall over her shoulder, and she pushed it back with one hand. "When my father married again I was so excited to have two sisters, Duchamp. I...I didn't have any real friends growing up; we lived outside of town, without any neighbours, and Papa didn't take me into the city very often, and when he did I never had time to make any friends. I was so excited to have a pair of sisters who I could talk to, play with, share secrets with, all that sort of thing. I suppose I've kept on looking for that, even if it doesn't seem to work out."

There was a knock upon the door.

Cinderella frowned slightly. "Who is it?"

The door opened and Augustina du Bois stepped through the open doorway. "Someone humbled, but ready to serve," she said, as she closed the door behind her.

Cinderella got up off the bed, her feet landing with a tiny thump on the wooden floor. "Augustina?"

Augustina smiled abashedly. "With my proverbial tail between my metaphorical legs, as it were."

Cinderella stared at her, the ivory-complexioned beauty who had left her service just as they had come to truly understand one another. "Augustina, you're...I mean are you...you've come back?"

"I have," Augustina said. "If you'll have me that is. Prince Eugene wrote to me asking if I'd be willing to re-enter your service, but he also made clear that if you didn't want me back then that would be the end of it."

"I...but you left," Cinderella stammered.

Augustina made a wincing expression. "Yes, I did, didn't I? Suffice to say it seemed very important at the time, but it seems just a little self-important now. And besides, I only left because I didn't want to be a party to what you were doing...but you've done it now so what I think about it doesn't matter one way or the other. And you know, there is some precedent for this kind of behaviour-"

Cinderella crossed the little distance that separated the two of them and embraced Augustina in a hug, wrapping her arms around the other girl's neck. "Welcome back, Augustina. I've missed you."

She felt Augustina's arms around her waist. "Likewise, your highness."

Cinderella took a step back from her. "Eugene sent for you?"

"Yes, I think as soon as he found out that…how are you feeling, your highness."

Cinderella bowed her head as she laughed. "Everyone's been asking me that for days…you're fortunate that you're asking on a day when I feel a little sickly."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Augustina said. "When His Highness asked me to come back I ventured to talk to my stepmother – the things I do for you, Cinderella – and she swore by ginger as a remedy for morning sickness. I can't attest to it myself of course but…" Augustina stopped, and tilted her head to one side. "If I might ask, why are you only wearing a slip?"

Cinderella chuckled embarrassedly. "I'm a little worried about ruining my dress with…well, you know…if I get dressed too soon before I go out."

"Ah, I see," Augustina said. "Are you seeing the doctor regularly.

"Yes, he's due again tomorrow."

"And you're doing what he says this time."

"Eugene won't let me do anything else."

"An improvement over the last time you were ill, at least," Augustina said. "I…I'm sorry that I wasn't…when I heard what happened with Serena and Grace…I'm sorry that I wasn't there."

"It's alright," Cinderella said. "It all worked out in the end."

"Yes, but…I left you alone with them."

"Angelique was there, and Marinette too," Cinderella said. "Honestly, Augustina, what could do you have done except be in danger from them as well?"

"Your logic may be sound, but that's not really the point is it? I shouldn't…" Augustina hesitated. "If it really doesn't matter then I'll stop going on before I start to sound as though I want you to tell me you don't mind. But thank you, anyway, for taking me back."

"Thank you for coming back," Cinderella said. "I was a little worried about a flood of new faces, but it's wonderful to see you again."

"Speaking of faces," Augustina said. "I'm a little surprised that Marinette and Angelique aren't here. Are they downstairs?"

"Angelique's gone to fetch my stepsister Drizella to have tea with us, and Marinette is with her brother at the church."

"The church?"

"It's General Gerard's wedding day."

"Oh, yes, your dressmaker isn't it? Of course," Augustina said. She paused. "I'm sorry, did you say your stepsister Drizella? Drizella Tremaine?"

"Yes, I offered her a position, since there were so many of them," Cinderella said.

"That sounds…a very generous offer of you."

Cinderella huffed. "I must say it's becoming ever so slightly tiresome the way that everyone seems to think that I've made a mistake doing this."

"I won't pretend to know her the way that you do," Augustina said. "But from what I saw of her in the salons-

At that moment the door opened and Angelique returned, accompanied by Drizella.

"Cinderella! There you are!" Drizella declared, as though there was something strange about Cinderella being in her room. "I've been here for almost four days and I'm not satisfied, no not in the least bit! In the first place I don't see why I should have to have a room that's only the same size as the other ladies, I mean I am your sister. And in the second place why do I have to eat my meals with this riffraff instead of with you and the Prince? And why-"

"Good morning, Drizella," Cinderella said mildly. "Did you sleep well?"

She had spoken softly, but there was also a touch of rebuke to her words as well. She wanted to get on with her stepsister, she wanted to have the friendship that she had hoped for when they were little girls, but she wasn't going to allow Drizella to treat her the way she had done when they were children, to carry on as though Cinderella were still the maid and nothing had changed between them, or otherwise to ride roughshod over her. She had learned from Serena and from Grace and even Theodora that if she did not stand up for herself with her ladies then no one else would stand up for her and no sense of common decency would restrain them. And, as Duchamp had told her what seemed a long time ago, there were times when a good firm 'no' was required, even amongst friends.

Unfortunately, Drizella seemed ignorant of the message that Cinderella had tried to impart to her. "Look at you, standing there only half dressed. Lazybones!" She glanced at Augustina. "And who are you and what are you doing here?"

"My name is Augustina du Bois," Augustina declared proudly. "And I'm here doing the same thing that you are, apparently: serving the princess. I'm one of the riff-raff."

Drizella let out a 'hmph'. "Yes, I suppose you are? Well, Cinderella? What are you just standing there for, what are you going to do about it?"

The first thing that Cinderella did was sit down. She was feeling too faint and dizzy to keep on standing, and so she set herself upon the stool which sat in front of the dressing table. "What are you expecting me to do about what, Drizella?"

"Weren't you listening, stupid?" Drizella demanded, advancing upon Cinderella as though she meant to loom over her with menace. "I told you-"

"Drizella," Cinderella's voice was sharp, although she didn't raise it too much. She wasn't sure how it would have sounded if you'd tried. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you speak to me like that any more. I asked you here because I want you here and I also want you to be happy. But I'm your princess now, not your maid, and you can't insult me and bully me to get your way like you used to." She kept on going, not giving Drizella a chance to speak; partly because she was afraid that, if she did let her stepsister recover, then her own resolve would crumble and she would become the servant girl again, even in front of Angelique and Augustina. "As for your room, it is the same size as everyone else's, all my ladies-in-waiting have the same rooms on the same floor below us just as they all eat together in the same dining room. I'm sorry if you'd like to dine with Eugene and I sometimes, but it is the King who decides upon his guests for dinner. Although I promise that I will mention you to him, if you like." She smiled. "Now, we were just about to have some tea, would you like to join us in the sitting room?"

Drizella stared down at her in amazement. Her expression shifted from shock into a kind of sneer. "No I would not," she declared haughtily, and stalked straight away back out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind her as she went.

Cinderella sighed. _It has only been a few days._

"You wouldn't put up with that from anyone else," Angelique said.

"From any of my other ladies? No, I probably wouldn't," Cinderella admitted. _I had Eugene get rid of Theodora for not much more, after all._ "But from any other lady I wouldn't expect it. I knew what I was getting myself into with Drizella."

"Then why bother?" Augustina asked.

"Because she'll come around, eventually," Cinderella said. "I really believe that."

"And maybe you're even right," Angelique admitted. "But will it be worth all the effort you've put into making her come around when she finally does?"

The arrival of the tea saved Cinderella from having to reply.

Although it was a little disappointing that Drizella couldn't join them, the tea left Cinderella rather refreshed, after which it was about time to get ready if she didn't want to miss the wedding. It was a little awkward, trying to get dressed when she felt as though she might start to vomit again at any moment, but with the able assistance of Duchamp Cinderella was finally ready, dressed and made up by the time that Eugene arrived to take her downstairs.

She heard first his knock on the door. "Cinderella? Can I come in?"

"Of course, darling," Cinderella replied. "Everybody's decent here."

The door opened and Eugene walked in, a soft smile upon his face as he beheld her. "You look as lovely as always, if a little more subdued than normal."

Cinderella chuckled. "It would be very unkind to Lucrecia to outshine her on her wedding day, don't you think?" It was for that reason that she wore a rather plain blue dress, and a trace of jewellery on her, not a single diamond, sapphire or pearl hung from neck, arms or ear. Today was a day when all eyes should be on Lucrecia.

"Personally, I don't think she or anyone else could ever outshine you," Eugene said, as bent down to give her a kiss. "But I'm sure that she'll appreciate you made the effort."

"On, stop it, you're terrible," Cinderella replied with a laugh.

"How do you feel?"

"I was vomiting before, but it's stopped now. I'm a little dizzy still but I'll manage."

Eugene frowned. "Are you-"

"Yes," Cinderella said firmly, placing a hand upon Eugene's arm. "I'll be fine."

Eugene nodded, but at the same time he said, " The moment that you think that isn't true, tell me and we'll come straight back."

"Alright," Cinderella said softly, with a nod of her head. "But I'm fine now, and I'm ready to go."

"Alright," he said, and kissed her again. Eugene glanced momentarily over Cinderella's head. "Mademoiselle du Bois, I'm glad to see that you felt able to return to Cinderella's service."

Augustina curtsied. "When the Prince of the realm asks, one does not refuse. I should thank you, your highness, for thinking of after the circumstances in which I took my leave of the princess' household."

"As I understand it, your principles wouldn't allow you to stay at that time," Eugene said. "I think that a woman of firm principles is exactly the sort of person I want surrounding Cinderella. And now we should probably go. Lady Bonnet, Mademoiselle du Bois, adieu for now."

"Goodbye Angelique, Augustina," Cinderella said, as Eugene led her out the room. "I'll see you both when I get back."

Jean and two of his men fell in behind them as they began to climb down the stairs. Cinderella noticed that Eugene was not only holding her by the arm but by the waist as well, as though he was afraid that she was going to faint at any moment and he would need to catch her before she fell and cracked her head. She considered rebuking him mildly for it, but in the end she said nothing; partly because she did feel a little light-headed and couldn't entirely discount the possibility that her foot might slip on one of these many stairs, and secondly...secondly because it felt rather nice, the way his hand felt on her waist like that.

"So how is it? Having your stepsisters around?" Eugene asked.

Cinderella sighed. "Hard work, at first, as I knew it would be."

"You shouldn't have to work hard," Eugene said. "You shouldn't feel as though you have to punish yourself."

"I'm not punishing myself," Cinderella cried. "If I didn't do any hard work, if I just sat in my room and played cards with Marinette and Augustina I'd soon be bored out of my mind."

"There's a difference between royal work and what you're doing," Eugene said.

"Perhaps," Cinderella acknowledged. "But that doesn't mean I can't do both."

They said little else as they left the palace - more guards joined them both outside - and mounted a plain and unornamentex black carriage to take them to the church. Honestly, Cinderella didn't feel much like talking; it was wonderful to just lean against Eugene and rest her head upon his shoulder as the carriage rattled down the cobbled street. Cinderella closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of Eugene's body against her. He didn't say anything but she felt his arms around, clasping her hands. So warm , so comforting. She might have dozed off for a little while, because the next thing she remembered was Eugene giving her a gentle nudge to let her know that they'd arrived.

"You should have woken me if I'd fallen asleep," Cinderella said.

"I didn't have the heart to disturb you, you looked so peaceful," Eugene said. " And I thought you both might need your beauty sleep."

Cinderella laughed softly as Eugene helped her down out of the carriage. The church outside of which they had stopped was a decebt-sized parish church for one the city districts, if nothing compared to the great cathedral in which Eugene had taken her to wed. A statue of the Blessed Virgin stood outside the church, poised atop a pool for donations. Eugene tossed a couple of gold coins in as he led Cinderella up the church steps, while Jean threw something in as he took up his station keeping watch outside.

They found Lucrecia waiting in the antechamber, dressed in a gown that Cinderella had made for her, fortunately before morning sickness had overcome her. It had seemed only fair, Lucrecia having made so many wonderful gowns for Cinderella, that she return the favour at least once. Looking at the results upon the intended subject, the way the sleeves fell off the shoulders and the bodice embraced Lucrecia's figure, Cinderella was glad her sewing skills had not completely atrophied from lack of use.

"You made it," Lucrecia cried as she saw them. "I wasn't sure that you would be able to in your condition."

"Oh no, I wouldn't miss this for anything," Cinderella said. "You look so beautiful."

Lucrecia blushed. " Thank you, you did a marvellous job with my dress."

Cinderella giggled, "I seem to remember a certain dressmaker telling me something about a dress only bringing out the beautu of the girl who wears it. Congratulations, Lucrecia, I'm sure you'll be very happy."

"Congratulations from both of us, mademoiselle," Eugene said. "I've known Etienne since we were boys, but after his father passed away...it wasn't having his family lands restored that restored his spirit, but you. And for that you have my praise."

"Your highness is too kind."

Cinderella and Eugene left her then, and took their seats in the small church it was not crowded, Lucrecia was still somewhat new to Armorique from Italy, and any family or friends she might have had there had probably found the trip prohibitive in cost and distance. Etienne was no social butterfly either. His sister, Marinette, stood across the altar from where Etienne himself waited in his dress uniform, but his brother Lucien was far away in America now, and Cinderella couldn't see any sign of their mother either. Perhaps she had still not reconciled herself to the idea of her son marrying a dressmaker.

Still, when the music began to play and Lucrecia began to walk down the aisle none of that mattered. When she reached the chat, and she and Etienne began to exchange their vows before the priest it was clear from the way they looked at one another and only at one another that the small size of the crowd didn't matter one bit.

Cinderella sat with a smile on her face as she watched Brigadier General Etienne Gerard marry Mademoiselle Lucrecia Adessi.

And then, when all was said and done and God had joined the two of them ad man and wife in holy matrimony, Cinderella joined the small number of other wellwishers outside the church as Etienne and Lucrecia climbed into the carriage that would whisk them away on their honeymoon. They waved, and cried out to them as the coach disappeared out of sight.

Cinderella looked up at Eugene with a smile. "There, you see? I told you I was fine. Now we can-"

Cinderella was rocked by a sudden dizzy spell, a wave of weakness that assailed her as if from nowhere. She swayed unsteadily, and her foot slipped on the stone steps of the church. Cinderella's world spun as she felt herself falling backwards.

"Cinderella!" Eugene caught her, cradling her in his arms as held her tight. "Cinderella, are you alright?"

"I think," Cinderella murmured as her vision began to darken and a feeling of such immense fairness overtook her. "I think...perhaps we should go home now."

She could hear Eugene calling her name as she slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

With Cinderella gone, Angelique and Augustina lingered a while in her bed chamber. Oscar and Penny were in the sitting room, but both were so silent it was easy to forget that fact. It was so quiet it was as if they were alone.

Neither if them spoke. Angelique didn't know Augustina that well, and she couldn't say she liked her either. Her abiding memory was of the time that Augustina had laughed at a cruel prank played on Cinderella by Theodora, and then lied about to Cinderella when Theodora tried to get Angelique in trouble. That wasn't a memory guaranteed to build up trust.

So the two lingered in silence, looking at one another and then looming away, neither willing or able to make the first move.

"I'm sorry," Augustina said.

"Eh?"

"For not telling the truth about Theodora when I was asked about it," Augustina said. "That was what you were thinking about, wasn't it?"

For a moment, astonished rendered Angelique incapable of speech, before she rallied with a denial. "No."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," Angelique said sharply. "I was thinking about how you laughed when you found out what she'd done."

"I didn't laugh," Augustina replied.

"You weren't exactly outraged about it," Angelique snapped. "Theodora went on about how Cinderella deserved to be taken down a peg and you didn't disagree."

Augustina licked her lips. "No," she confessed. "No, I didn't. Believe me, I'm not proud of the fact now."

"Why did you believe that at the time?"

"Because I didn't know Cinderella then, I couldn't believe that...I thought that she had either be a liar or an idiot and either way she deserved to learn some humility."

"Her life before this wasn't humbling enough?"

"Of course, I...I was a different person, I didn't know Cinderella then," Augustina repeated. "Look, I know you mean well and I happen to think that your protectiveness is beneficial on the whole; but do you find it so hard to imagine that I could change, or that my opinions could do so?"

Angelique was silent for a moment. "No, after all mine changed to. I suppose Cinderella is more than either of us imagined."

"Indeed," Augustina murmured. "There's iron beneath that petticoat, though she lets few enough catch sight of it, and rarely more than a glimpse. She has a marvellous way of telling you off, doesn't she? She doesn't get angry so much as she makes you feel ashamed of yourself."

"I wouldn't know, she doesn't tell me off."

"Teacher's pet," Augustina muttered. She was silent a moment. "So that was the stepsister?"

Angelique nodded. "She's been here a few days now."

"I'm sure that's been delightful."

"Yes," Angelique agreed. "It's been lovely. I don't think she's done one thing she's supposed to either. But then...Drizella isn't really here for that."

"What do you mean?" Augustina asked.

"She's a lady-in-waiting, just like us, supposedly," Angelique said. "But it's like she's really here so that Cinderella can prove that they could have been friends, or could be now. That there's someone good in there."

Augustina snorted. "Funny, I always thought you were the princess's pet project."

"What do you mean?"

Augustina shrugged. "A common girl, a society patron, an unfamiliar world and all it's trappings. All that's missing are the elocution lessons."

Angelique shook her head. "You know what I find the strangest thing?"

"About what?"

"About Drizella," Angelique said. "It's the way...it's like she hates Cinderella. Actually no, that's strange things. The first strange thing is that Cinderella knows it, too. This isn't Serena or Grace, this is Cinderella knowing that the dog wants to bite and choosing to pet it anyway, but I can understand why she's doing it even if I think it's...not the cleverest thing she's ever done. But Drizella's hate...I don't understand that at all."

"Cinderella is more beautiful than her by far, is jealousy so alien to you?"

"She was their servant, she never left the house and nobody saw her, what was there to be jealous of?" Angelique asked. "I can understand what they did, but...shouldn't the one who bore the cruelty be the one to hate, while them that was cruel glides on, uncaring?"

"An interesting notion, to be sure," Augustina murmured. "You don't think cruelty needs hate to drive it?"

Angelique pursed her lips together. "My...my mother abandoned me when I was seven years old. She just...kicked me out and locked the door. She didn't want a daughter no more. That's why Cinderella is so set on giving a second chance to her stepfamily, because at least they didn't do that for whatever it's worth. But the point is...the point is, do you think my mother hated me?"

Augustina was still, and near silent. Her voice barely carried across the small distance between them. "I can't imagine."

"I don't reckon so," Angelique said. "She didn't hate me, she just didn't care. She thought her life would be better without me so she did what we best for her. It was me who hated her for what she did, who still hates her for what she did." Angelique found that her hands had clenched into fists, and she forced herself to open them again. "I can understand that they thought making Cinderella a slave, but I can't imagine hating her while they did it, just like I can hardly imag8ne that she doesn't hate them for what they did."

"Do you think Cinderella has it in her to hate?" Augustina asked.

"I don't really want to find out do you?"

"No," Augustina said. "I take it...That sounded a very personal story."

"Jean knows," Angelique said. "Jean knows everything about me. But no one else, not even Cinderella."

Augustina took a pause awhile. "No one will hear it from me, I guarantee that."

"Thank you," Angelique said softly. "I appreciate it."

* * *

"Do you think they forgot we were here?" Penny asked as they heard the door close behind Angel Eyes and that new woman, Augustina. Oscar made a mental note to come up with a nickname for her, even if she only ever used it inside her own head.

Oscar looked up from the collection of fairy stories she was reading; it was the rare book in Princess Pureheart's rooms that she had both the ability and inclination to read; on the basis of the evidence it seemed the princess mostly read full political times.

She stared over the top of the book at her companion. "It wouldn't surprise me, we were being silent. So let's keep all that stuff about the Angel's past to ourselv4s, shall we?"

"Why?" Penny asked.

Oscar stared at her. Her companion and sole remaining member of her gang was two years younger than her, and the freckles on her face didn't make her luck any older or more mature. Her eyes were a kind of amber-brown, while her hair was a pale flaxen colour.

"Because I don't want her to be angry at me," Oscar explained. She had to explain a lot of things to Penny.

"It's her own fault."

"That won't make her any less upset about it," Oscar said, as she returned to her book. Beauty had just asked her father to bring her back a rose from his travels; it probably wasn't going to end well.

Penny huffed. "What I want to know is why Angelique gets to be a lady while I have to pretend to be a servant."

"Just be thankful that you're not a thief and a beggar any more, that's how I soothe my feelings of unfairness," Oscar said, without looking up from her book. "And get your feet off the setter, you'll leave marks and someone might make a fuss about it. Use a foot stool, it's what they're there for."

Penny huffed. "So, what do you think of this place."

"If it wasn't the nicest place we'd ever been in I'd be disappointed," Oscar said. "But it is, so I'm not."

"And what do you think of the princess?"

Oscar looked up. "Are you bored?"

"A little," Penny admitted.

"Good, this means this is an easy job. Now read a book or something."

"I've been quiet all day and when everyone comes back I'll have to be quiet again," Penny protested. "So come on, talk to me."

Oscar sighed. It appeared that Beauty's rose would have to wait. "I think...I think she could be the most unbearable person in the world and I'd still put up with her for the sake of this job. Thankfully, she's not unbearable...She's actually quite nice." Princess Purity was just a little twee for Oscar's tastes, but everyone, even savvy people like Angel Eyes, behaved as though she was completely sincere about it, so who was Oscar to question.

She wasn't entirely clear on why she hadn't used her power to take revenge on everyone who had ever wronged her, but just because Oscar would have done that didn't mean everybody had to, she supposed. "What about you, what do you think if her?"

"She seems nice," Penny said. "Stupid, but nice."

If Penny had not been a part of her gang Oscar might have been tempted to make a caustic remark, but as it was she just said, "What makes you think she's stupid?"

"Who leaves that much jewellery in an unlocked box?"

Oscar sighed. Penny, bless her, was many things but she was not in the least but subtle. Oscar could see her mind working. A blind man could have seen her mind working.

"No," she said. "Absolutely not. No, Penny, I mean that."

"She's got so much," Penny protested. "Do you think she'd notice-"

"The rich always notice," Oscar said firmly. "Penny, what are the first two rules?"

Penny sighed. "Rule one: never steal anything that looks unique, you won't be able to get rid of it."

"And rule number two?"

"Don't rob anyone the constable has to bow to."

"And this breaks both of those," Oscar said. "The princess doesn't buy from the high street, that stuff in there is bespoke, you'd never be able to fence it, which meant you'd be stuck with it while every constable in the country looked for you which brings me to the point that they'd all know it was you! And besides, why would you want to ruin this?"

"Because we could be actual rich instead of working for the rich."

"There's nothing wrong with honest work," Oscar said. "We've got out, Penny. We're away from all of it we don't have to worry about the constable or the magistrate any more; the thugs and the snitches can't touch us here. And you want to throw that away? Come on, Penny, think about this. We're free of the shadow of the rope here. And..."

"What?" Penny asked.

Oscar shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "The Little Bull trusted me with this, it...I don't know, it makes me want to do right by him."

"I didn't think you liked Jean that much."

"I didn't, until now," Oscar said. But he trusted me, and with something that seems to matter to him. That...it's like obligation, we have to live up to the opinion that he has of us."

Penny leaned back. "I've never heard you sound like that before."

"Just because I never said it doesn't mean I never thought it," Oscar said. "Why do you think I took care of you: because you trusted me, and so I couldn't let you down. And I think the princess trusts us too, if only because Jean does." Her eyes narrowed. "So no stealing, understand? Absolutely none."

"I understand," Penny said. "Fingers to myself at all times."

* * *

Cinderella came to in the carriage back to the palace, a fact which did not prevent Eugene from sending for the doctor as soon as they returned.

"I told you to tell me if there was anything wrong," Eugene said reproachfully as helped her to sit down.

"Nothing was wrong," Cinderella said. "Until something was, and when it was I told you."

Eugene did not look entirely convinced by this, which hurt just a little, but he didn't argue the point with her, for which Cinderella was very grateful. He stayed with her until the doctor arrived, for which she was also grateful even if the way that he sat beside her holding her hand as though she was dying worried her far more than her having fainted did.

Cinderella didn't mention that fact to Eugene, however. He probably wouldn't have appreciated hearing it, not right now. And it wasn't as though she didn't understand why he was behaving this way. Katherine haunted him, or at least the spectre of her fate did. Having lost her he was terrified of losing Cinderella, and nothing she could say would convince him that she wasn't in imminent danger of death.

The physician arrived, and listened to Cinderella's description of what had happened as he examined her.

"Hmm," he murmured, as much to himself as to either of them. "Tell me, how many times a day do you vomit, your highness?"

"Um, I'm not really...three, maybe?" Cinderella hazarded. "I don't really keep count."

"And you're keeping food and liquid down?"

"Yes."

Cinderella few more similar questions before the doctor appeared satisfied. "The good news is that you don't appear to be suffering from particularly severe morning sickness. You're vomiting isn't excessive, you aren't unable to keep down food and I can't see any evidence of weight loss. On the other hand, based on your account and my examination, it seems you are suffering from anemia."

"Oh," Cinderella said. "What's that?"

"Too little iron in your blood," the doctor explained. "Not uncommon in pregnant women and not dangerous to the baby either. You should eat more red meat, green vegetables, cereals, grapes and the like; conversely your highness should have less tea or coffee, milk, cheese and that sort."

That advice was something of a disappointment, as Cinderella rather liked tea, but he was the doctor and she was the patient, and Eugene would make sure she followed his advice anyway.

Once the doctor had departed, Cinderella sighed and lay back on the settee. "I'm just glad that Etienne and Lucrecia missed this. "I'd hate to have ruined their wedding day. They've waited a long for this."

"I know," Eugene said. "It would have been pointless for them to have stayed for all they could do, but they might have done. Etienne will be glad he had a break when he comes back to his new post."

"New post?" This was the first Cinderella had heard of this. "What's this?"

"Etienne was interested in the vacant position of deputy commander of the city garrison," Eugene explained. "I persuaded Father to give it to him. He'll be close to his wife but he'll also be run ragged, poor fellow. I'm not sure he understands that yet."

"So long as he has Lucrecia I'm sure he'll be able to bear it," Cinderella said softly. She was silent a moment. "You know...when I first met Etienne, I was a little that you cared for each other more than you could care for me."

Eugene leaned forwards in his chair, "You never told me that before."

"I suppose I was afraid to find out I was right," Cinderella said. "That he was the friend of your heart, the one who understood you while I was just...the pretty face."

Eugene's expression was remorseful. "I swear, if I had understood how you felt then...I would have done many things differently."

"It doesn't matter," Cinderella said. "We're still here, and everything is different now. I only mention it because, well, with Etienne married too...It seems I never had anything to worry about."

Eugene laughed. "Never, for my part. It may have taken me some time to find the perfect wife, but I always knew or hoped that one would come between us. I admit I was a little surprised about Etienne though, I always thought his pride and his poverty together would get in the way."

"And I thought my being a mere servant girl would get in the way," Cinderella said. "When it comes to love it seems we all overestimate the difficulties. So what is Etienne's new job and why will be so terrible for him?"

"He's the second in command of all policing functions in the capital, and his superior is seventy-eight," Eugene said. "Etienne will have to read all the reports into every single secret society no matter how ridiculous, authorise all the payments, review all the assignments...when I looked into it I was astonished, and I'm not sure how much he knows." He grinned. "But, on the other hand, I'm hard pressed to think of anyone I'd rather have keeping us safe.

"Oh, by the way Cinderella," Eugene continued. "In addition to Mademoiselle du Bois I've had responses from one other family with able to make up the numbers of your ladies-in-waiting; since I said I would talk to you about it first...if you feel able-"

"Of course I'm able," Cinderella said. "Who is she? What's she like?"

"Christine Roux is the niece of Lord Roux, the leader of the opposition," Eugene said.

"I see," Cinderella murmured. What she principally remembered about Lord Roux was that he had agreed to form a government, kept her waiting for weeks and then told her that he couldn't manage the business after all. It had been very frustrating.

On the other hand, thanks to the delay there had been no one to oppose her making a deal with Frederica, so she supposed it had all worked out for the best.

Eugene sighed. "I know what happened, but the Roux family is not only old and distinguished but they are also historically liberal, which I thought would please you. You won't find many such amongst the aristocracy."

"Have you ever met Christine?"

"No, I think this season is her coming out," Eugene said. "So I'm afraid there's nothing I can speak to with regards to her character."

"I see," Cinderella said. That meant she was young, and hopefully too young to have Cinderella for stealing Eugene away. And it would be good to have another lady who supported her ideals, rather than someone who thought she was wrong and probably stupid too. Drizella would he quite enough in that regard. "Alright, I'm sure she'll be fine. When can she be here?"

"In a few days, in time for the big outing."

"The what?"

"Father's idea," Eugene explained. "A great expedition out of the city get into the countryside for a day, relax, take the load off our shoulders. Father, you, me, Philippe, your ladies, everyone."

Cinderella smiled. "It sounds idyllic."

"I think he just wants to play with his grandson where no one can accuse him of shirking because they're all shirking too," Eugene said.

"All the same, it still sounds lovely," Cinderella said. "I'm looking forward to it already."

* * *

Anne, Duchess of Cornouaille, was sitting in the school room, keeping one eye on the copy of Virgil's Aeneid open in her lap.

The other eye was on her eldest son, Charles August, as he worked on his Latin.

She handled his tuition personally, it was one of the avenues allowed for her to exercise her own learning. Some looked askance at her, of course, whispered about it; but Anne wasn't sure why it should be considered more acceptable to hire some poor middle class girl as a governess than to involve herself in the lives of education of her own children.

It wasn't even as though she had anything better to do.

"Mama, I've finished," Charles declared from his desk. He was a thin boy of seven years old - with half a year still to go until he was right- with fair skin but rosy cheeks. He had inherited his father's blonde hair, but it was Anne's own eyes that stared back at her.

"Show me," Anne said, holding out one hand for his translation. Charles got up from his desk and handed her several sheets of handwritten French.

Anne put down her book and picked up a quill, dipping into ink as she began to correct his work. "A little rough in places," she murmured, before favouring him with a smile. "But very good in others."

He smiled back at her. His smile was not quite like either his mother or his father, but a mixture of both of them. The best of both of them, God willing.

The door to the room flew open, slamming into the wall with a bang. Henry strode in. "I have it!"

Anne felt a chill settle upon her. She put down her quill and Charles' translation and hoped her son could not see the slight strain in her smile. "Your father and I need a moment alone, darling. Run along to the nursery and see that Helene is being nice to Louis." Her daughter sometimes forgot that her little brother was a child, and not a toy for her to play with.

"Yes, Mama," Charles said, and scampered from the room.

Anne watched him go, then looked up into Henry's face. "He doesn't need to hear you plotting treason." Indeed, if things went very wrong then ignorance would be his best defence against a prince's wrath.

Or the best means of getting a princess' mercy. Anne hoped that Cinderella would not punish a child for the sins of his parents, but who could say how a mother would react to a threat to her children.

Henry seemed oblivious to her concerns. "When he is king it will be as well for him to know by what means he became king, and learn from it resolve in the face of obstacles."

Anne pursed her lips together. "What do you mean to do?"

Henry looked very pleased with his own cleverness. That was a bad sign, it probably meant he hadn't thought things through at all. "Eugene takes his wife-"

"Her name is Cinderella, darling, it will do you no harm to say it," Anne murmured.

"They take a carriage out into the peaceful meadows in a few days time, to while away a few untroubled hours," Henry continued ignoring. "I, and a couple of trustworthy fellows, will waylay them disguised as highwaymen, and shoot them both in the confusion."

It was as Anne had suspected, he hadn't thought this through at all. Now she just had to find a way of explaining to him that he was being very foolish. "Do they ride alone?" she asked, suspecting she knew what the answer would be.

"No, they are accompanied by all the princess attendants, and by his majesty and-"

"Do you really think all those people are going to let you ride up and shoot the prince and princess?" Anne asked. Princess Cinderella possessed a ferocious mastiff of a protector, if what she heard be true, and he would surely not be the only attendant upon their highnesses and his majesty as well, good God! "Husband, you would be more like to die in this than any you would put to death, unless you rode in such numbers as to make a mockery of any claim to be mere highwaymen."

Henry's face redeemed. "I have no need of your advice in matters such as these, wife; they are outside of women's provinces. That being said, it occurs to me now that the occasion is not perfect for my enterprise, and a better time and place may yet present themselves."

"I think that is very wise of you, lord husband," Anne said. "For the sake of our children I beg you to be ruled by caution, lest in your urge to have more than you posses you lose them all that they would inherit."

"I cannot be too cautious," Henry complained. "Now that Eugene has demonstrated his willingness to do his duty then he must die, and swiftly."

That his focus was upon Eugene, not Cinderella, managed to surprise Anne somewhat. After all it was Cinderella's marriage, and Cinderella's pregnancy, that was the cause of all this. "Eugene," she said. "Not Cinderella?"

Henry waved his hand dismissively. "Even if she were to perish with her child, Eugene would swiftly find another to fill his bed and get another child to trouble us. Or seek to make his son hair to the throne. But if Eugene should fall...The King is old, he will not live to see his grandchildren full grown and then-"

"You would be regent, and quietly dispose of your nephew or niece," Anne said. It was cold-hearted in the extreme, but it was not an awful plan. If only her husband's design to actually kill Eugene had not been so amateurish.

She didn't really expect him to come up with anything better either. Henry did not have that sort of mind. Anne was afraid she might have to devise the plan herself in order to keep her husband from getting caught. Because, as much as it would have better if he could have learned contentment with his lot, he clearly wasn't going to.

Which meant that, to save him from himself, Anne might have to step in. The alternative was that their children would grow up fatherless, and probably penniless too.

And that she would not allow.

* * *

She had sent them out to find need a pretty girl, and they had certainly done as they were hidden.

The girl who knelt at Grace's feet, shivering in fear, was a true beauty; and would have been so even by the standards of the court with her long raven hair, but blue eyes and high, sculpted cheekbones sent in a face that was soft when appropriate and sharp-featured else. Grace might have been jealous, had she not known what was about to happen.

"My, you are a pretty one," Grace said, with a little laugh. "What is your name, girl?"

"V-Vanessa, ma'am," the girl said.

"Vanessa, a pretty name too," Grace said. "Well aren't you blessed. Good work, boys; Vanessa here is absolutely perfect."

Vanessa struggled in futility against Rollo's hideous strength. "Please, ma'am, if you let me go I won't say nothing. On my life I won't. Please ma'am, I've been good all my life, I've never done nothing wrong, I don't deserve to-"

"Quiet," Grace snapped. "This isn't about you, or what you deserve. This is about me, and my family, and all the dreams that Cinderella knocked asunder." She got up, turning away from Vanessa and wandering over to the cauldron which bubbled away upon the open fire. A green liquid stewed within the black iron, sending noxious fumes rising into the air.

"Excellent," Grace murmured, as she watched her mother stir the cauldron. "It's almost ready."

"I don't understand," Anatole said. "What do you mean to do? What's the point of all this?"

Grace was silent a moment. "The royal family and all of their attendants go laying in a few days time. Or they would, if it were not still march. Lovers do love the springtime, I suppose. Regardless, they will all be out in the countryside together. There will be no better chance."

"A chance for what?" Anatole demanded. "The love potion, the girl, what is it all to come to?"

"Do you know what happens when you give someone a love potion?"

Anatole hesitated. "You told me they would love you, but only for a little while."

"Indeed, and it only works once," Grace said. " Or at least that is generally the case. I have a theory, that by altering the ingredients somewhat the effects can be extended. They will not come instantly now, but in a rising arc of affection leading only late to infatuation, which will then descend into mere fondness and then fade to nothing as before. But now...it will be long enough. How they will squirm as they see my claws sink deeper and deeper."

"And when it stops working?"

"By then we will have won," Grace said. "It all begins on the day of their little picnic. On that day I will become their hero, and use their gratitude to bring them down; or rather, Vanessa will."

Grace smiled savagely as she rounded on the captive girl. Roll had her kneeling in the midst of a pentagram carved into the earth, and Grace could feel its power crackling at her fingertips. "I conjure by the earth and sky and by the morning star, I conjure by Mephistopheles and by the rites of many sisters gone before me. I conjure for the life and health and beauty of this captive. Let her face and voice be mine."

Vanessa screamed as everything she had was ripped away from her, drawn in a green light towards Grace. She kept on screaming until there we nothing left of her at all, nothing but a desiccated husk drained of everything, wrinkled and withered like a prune.

"Dispose of that," commanded Grace, who now wore Vanessa's face and spoke in her voice, although without the common diction. She picked up a mirror, and smirked as she gazed upon her new reflection. "Now, to become a hero."

* * *

 _Author's Note: When I wrote the wedding scene ending with Cinderella fainting, that was to be the end of the chapter. However, circumstances prevented me from posting said chapter but didn't prevent me from writing the next one, and having done so that cliffhanger started to seem increasingly manipulative. In part this is because Cinderella was originally going to be a lot worse than simply anemic: she was going to suffer from hyperemesis gravidarum like the Duchess of Cambridge, only without 21_ _st_ _century medicine to remove the majority of the risk; the problem with that though was that it would mean pausing all the other plots for weeks or months while Cinderella was ill and some of them, particularly Grace's plot, just won't wait that long._

 _I also think the combined chapter works better together than it would have apart._

 _Originally Drizella was actually going to demand that Cinderella do her laundry, which I realised made her look too stupid for words, whereas her actions now fall under common idiocy. I think Drizella being foolish enough to be openly hostile is in character, but I also think that if she'd been super nice from the off Cinderella would have suspected something was up after what happened with Serena and Grace; she's warier now of false friendship and to an extent Drizella is showing her exactly what she expects to see._

 _I'm not very ashamed of myself for making up the way Grace's magic works almost on the fly, because I think there's an extent to which Brandon Sanderson-style rules of magic are only necessary if you're going to use magic to solve the problems, not create them (and sometimes not even then; the fairy godmother's magic only has one rule that we know of and it isn't even consistently applied). But Cinderella isn't going to defeat Grace by trumping her spells with other spells but by (well that would be telling, wouldn't it?) so I don't think it matters too much in this case._

 _Vanessa is the name that Ursula uses in the Little Mermaid when she ensorcels Prince Eric; there's enough similarity in Grace's plan that it felt like an obvious shout-out to make._


	6. A Day to Remember

A Day to Remember

The grand procession moved down the country road like a great serpent with scales of liveried gold, winding its glittering coils down the narrow, dusty lane. Like some old royal progress, poised to descend upon some hapless Lord and eat him out of house and home, the royal party move with the thump of hooves and the rattling of carriage wheels.

A full squadron of dragoons, in green jackets and bronze helmets glimmering in the light, with heavy, straight swords and carbines bolstered by their saddles, rode as escort for the party; the armed horsemen ranged back and forth around the carriages, darting out in front of checking behind as well as constantly riding alongside the coaches. Some half-dozen horse grenadiers, in tall bearskin hats, rode closely around the King's carriage, while personal guards of the prince and princess either rode nearby or on the roof of the coach.

The rest of the procession consisted of four carriages: in the first rose His Majesty the King, accompanied by his grandson Philippe and by the boy's grandmother; in the third coach where all of Cinderella's ladies-in-waiting, now numbering five; the final carriage contained all requisite servants for the day.

All of which meant that Cinderella and Eugene had the second carriage all to themselves, which was very kind and considerate of everybody.

Cinderella had been looking forward to this and she wasn't ashamed to it either. It had been too long, or at least it felt as though it had been too long which came to much the same thing, since they had been able to forget all their worries and their burdens, or even almost all of them. After war and illness, in the midst of politics and more illness, of sorts, she thought that everyone needed this.

"This was a wonderful idea of your father's," Cinderella said. "I can't remember the last time we did something like this."

"Just before the war," Eugene said. "You and I, Philippe and Etienne."

"Oh yes, of course," Cinderella said. "It was just before you had to go, I remember now. Just before His Majesty had the portrait painted of the four of us." Cinderella smiled fondly. "Yes, that was a lovely day, wasn't it?"

Eugene nodded. "How are you feeling?"

Cinderella gave him a look.

Eugene laughed at the (somewhat mock) exasperation of her expression even as he threw up his hands. "What do you expect? You're pregnant, and anemia apparently. Would you rather I ignored it?"

"I'd rather that you believed me when I tell you that I don't do things if I'm feeling well enough to do then," Cinderella replied in such a gentle tone that all the sting was robbed out of the rebuke.

Eugene leaned forwards, and took both her hands. His fingertips brushed against the pearl bracelets that she wore around her wrists. "I want to trust you, my love. I hope that I've proved that I do trust you in so many ways...but I'm afraid that when it comes to your health I've heard too much from Angelique and Marinette."

"That was completely different," Cinderella protested.

"Really?" Eugene asked sceptically.

"Yes," Cinderella said firmly. "I did what I must then, because no one else. But now you're here, and your father is well again and I don't need to drive myself so hard any more."

Eugene nodded, but he said, "I'm sorry if this frustrates you but...I know how dangerous this can be."

"I know," Cinderella murmured. "But I really do feel much better, for now at least." For all of Cinderella's enthusiasm for this day she honestly wouldn't have come out if she had thought that she was going to collapse and frighten everyone, or throw up in the middle of everything or otherwise ruin things for everybody else. Her new diet felt as though it was already making magic, although Cinderella was missing tea. She felt fully able to enjoy herself, and almost as importantly not to embarrass herself in the process.

No matter what Christine thought about the way she was dressed.

"So, Christine Roux arrived this morning?" Eugene asked. "So I understand, anyway."

"Yes, she's in the coach behind."

"How are you finding her so far?"

"She...She certainly knows her mind and isn't afraid to state her own opinions," Cinderella said, after a moment's hesitation.

 _Cinderella had just finished getting ready, and had thanked Duchamp for her excellent-as-always work, when Constance showed Christine up to her bedroom._

 _"The Lady Christine Roux, ma'am," Constance declared._

 _Cinderella turned around and away from the mirror - her petticoats rustled as they swirled around her - to look at Christine, who had taken a few steps into the bedroom as Constance closed the door._

 _If Angelique had a twin sister from whom she had been separated at birth, and that wondered twin had been raised not on the streets but in one the palaces of the mighty, that twin would probably have looked a lot like Christine Roux. She was taller than Angelique - taller than Cinderella too, come to that - and her statuesque slendernesd never seemed, as Angelique's lightness or short stature sometimes did, to be the result of malnourishment. Her hair was gold, and worn in short curls atop her head and winding singles framing her sculpted cheekbones. Her eyes were blue, but neither eyes nor face nor hands possessed any trace of the hardness that an unhappy life had forced on Angelique. Dressed in a gown of silver, stitched in with moonstones and diamonds, Christine looked the person they should all aspire to be; or perhaps would have been had life dealt more fairly with them._

 _Christine curtsied with a perfect formal precision. "Your highness, I am at your service."_

 _Cinderella clasped her hands together in front of her and smiled. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Christine."_

 _"Lady Christine, if it please your highness," Christine said, her voice quiet but her tone reproachful. "As my father is a titled peer."_

 _Cinderella was silent for half a moment before rallying. "Oh, yes, I'm terribly sorry. But, please, you mustn't keep calling me your highness like that. Cinderella will be fine, I don't like to stand on ceremony here." She had some hope that's if she offered informality, the other girl might return it in kind._

 _"I would prefer to call you your highness, your highness."_

 _"Oh," Cinderella said, unsure what to make of that. "If you prefer then...Yes. Anyway, we're all about to leave soon so if you're ready-"_

 _"Begging your highness pardon but how can we be leaving soon when you must change and dress?"_

 _Cinderella's eyebrows rose. After all, she had just finished getting ready with the able assistance of Duchamp and considered herself in her own opinion to look quite lovely. Her gown was white, ad they so often were, with a blue bustle and a blue sash tied round the waist in a giant bow that could be seen in part from the front. Blue too the trim around the ruffled collar which clung off her shoulders while leaving her arms bare down to the white gloves that enclosed her hands up to the wrist. She wore identical bracelets on her arms, first pearls closer to her hands then sapphires after, while out from beneath her hair peeked pearl and sapphire earrings, the sapphires dangling from the pearls like pure blue teardrops. Cinderella wore her favourite necklace, with the sapphire heart set in so many pearls, and held back her hair with a white silk hairband topped with a pretty bow._

 _In short she was at a loss as to what Christine wad talking about._

 _"I don't understand, C- I mean Lady Christine," Cinderella said, wondering if this was some sort of joke._

 _Christine wrinkled her nose. "Your highness doesn't mean to go out looking like that, do you?"_

 _"I, yes, I do," Cinderella replied, possibly a little more shortly than she should have done. "Why?"_

 _"Well, I don't know who's been advising and tailoring for your highness but that hairband belongs on a child of six, that sash round your waist is a decade out of fashion, that collar-"_

 _"Thank you, Lady Christine, I understand now," Cinderella said. She supposed that she ought to have felt mortified but what she mostly felt wad a degree of irritation, and at Duchamp or Lucrecia or anyone else. She wasn't really irritated at Christine either, although unfortunately she might have sounded irritated as she spoke to the poor girl. "The fact is that I have learnt here that dressing or arrangingvmy here or really doing anything to please other people, to conform better to their expectations, never achieves sufficient goodwill from them to balance out my own unhappiness." That was something of a politely worded understatement. At one time Christine's criticism would have thrown Cinderella into uncertainty; now she knew that those who wished to criticise her would find something no matter how hard she tried to please them._

 _"Therefore," Cinderella continued. "In my clothes and jewels I please myself, and let others think what they like."_

 _Christine's face reddened. "I...forgive me, your highness, I meant no offence, I...I was only trying to help."_

Cinderella smiled. "I'm sure we'll understand one another better in time."

Eugene gave her silk-gloved hands a squeeze. "If you don't like her, you know that you don't have to keep her. I don't want you to be unhappy, or to feel that you have bear someone you don't like."

Cinderella loved him for the fact that he didn't bring up Drizella; he trusted her to know what she was doing on that score without refighting that battle over and over again. He might not trust her to be a judge of her own health but he trusted her with that.

"I don't dislike her," Cinderella said. She leaned forwards so that there noses were almost touching. "If I thought that she was...If I thought there was anything wrong I'd tell you, you know I would. But I think that, well, I've just gotten used to the fact that everyone has gotten used to me and my ways: my ladies, the servants, you. I'd forgotten that not everyone would be the same way."

"There's nothing wrong with the way you like to do things," Eugene said, as he gently tugged her a little closer to him so that he could give her a kiss.

"I know," Cinderella replied. "But that doesn't mean everyone expects them. As I said, Christine and I just need a little more time, I think."

So she hoped, anyway.

Soon thereafter the entire procession and their escort arrived upon a picturesque and pleasant glade, a verdant place hard by the river's bank beneath a wider close that sat upon a hill nearby, joining the wood that stretched southward upon both sides of the river.

At this spot, however, the woods only slightly intruded upon them, as the carriages halted beneath the she's and the servants busied themselves in preparations. Eugene helped Cinderella down from their coach, taking her by the waist and lifting her up before setting her down upon the grass again. Elsewhere Cinderella could her ladies dismounting too, while Philippe shrieked with joy as he ran back and forth.

Cinderella smiled up at Eugene; she had the feeling this was going to be a very good day, and one well worth remembering.

As the staff began to make all the preparations, Cinderella looked up into Eugene's face and said, "Will you excuse me for a moment, I'd like to speak to Drizella."

Eugene's mouth tightened although he said nothing.

"Eugene," Cinderella said, with a hint of reproach.

"You can ask me to put up with this, but you can't force me to like it I'm afraid," Eugene replied. "And there are limits to what I will let you bear before I send her away."

Cinderella blinked. _But how would he...oh; oh, of course._ "Someone's talking to you, aren't they? Is it Angelique? Or Augustina?"

"It's Marinette, actually," Eugene replied. "She's concerned that you shouldn't have to put yourself through this."

"Isn't that my choice?"

"If you wanted to throw yourself into this river then that would be your choice as well, but it doesn't mean that I'd simply watch without acting," Eugene said, somewhat tartly.

"There's no need to exaggerate," Cinderella said quietly.

"I'm sorry," Eugene muttered. "I just...you can't possibly imagine what it's like to love someone whose best quality is also the thing that concerns you the most. Please be careful."

 _He wants to take care of me, I want him to trust me to take care of myself; will we ever reach a compromise that doesn't involve us bumping up against one another like this?_ Cinderella wondered, but could not say for certain. She couldn't even say for certain that he was wrong, or that Marinette was wrong to have gone to him for all that she instinctively disliked it. Drizella...had not been very kind to her so far. She hadn't hurt her, and she hadn't behaved as badly as she had done when Cinderella was her servant, but still...she had not been kind, and Cinderella wouldn't have borne it from anyone but her stepsister. Should she be upset with Marinette for going behind her back, or grateful that she cared? Or both? She really couldn't say for certain. All she could say for certain was that she felt she was doing the right thing.

 _And I will speak to Marinette about this after._

"Please," she said. "Trust me a little while longer. I won't be long, and afterwards I'll come and find you again."

"If you don't I shall come looking," he replied, in a deliberately light tone. He bent down to kiss her again. "Good luck."

Cinderella squeezed his arm and giggled just a little, because after all this was only Drizella, not a monster...for all that the two had seemed the same at times when she was younger.

Cinderella wouldn't have admitted this to anyone, certainly she wouldn't have admitted it to Eugene, but as she turned away and picked up her gown between her thumb and forefinger, spreading it out on either side of her so she did not trip, she could admit to herself that Drizella still had the power to frighten her. Whenever they spoke there was a part of Cinderella that wanted to give in, to concede everything that Drizella demanded so that she wouldn't be angry with her. But she couldn't run away from her past. She couldn't hide in a tall tower behind the castle walls. She didn't want to hide, or run. She wanted to be able to move forward, to love her stepfamily and have them love her in turn. The way it should have been, from the moment of her father's marriage.

She approached her ladies-in-waiting, who seemed almost to sense her coming like field mice who can tell the approach of a barn owl from the way they all turned towards her in expectation.

"Marinette," Cinderella said gently. "I'm afraid I shall want a word with you later, if you don't mind."

Marinette must have been able to guess why Cinderella would want a word, because her face paled and she looked down at the ground. "Of course."

Cinderella wanted to reassure her that she didn't hate her for what she had done, and that she wasn't really angry about it; but she couldn't think of a way to do so without revealing what Marinette had done to the other ladies, and so she was afraid that she would have to simply leave things be for now until she was finished talking with Drizella. "Drizella," she said. "Would you please keep me company awhile?"

"Well, alright," Drizella said, as though it was a great imposition upon her but one which, out of her generous nature, she would endure without complaint.

"Thank you," Cinderella said, gesturing away from the river and eastward across the rolling meadow.

Drizella approached with long strides, and when the two of them were stood side by side Cinderella began to walk in the indicated direction, past the carriages and the resting horses, across the road and across the meadow beyond, where bumblebees buzzed amonst the wildflowers. Jean followed discreetly behind them, keeping his distance so as not to overhear their conversation.

Although it was Cinderella who had indicated the way, it soon became Drizella who set the pace; she was taller than Cinderella, with longer legs which she used to stride out in front so that Cinderella almost had to run to keep up.

"Would you mind slowing down, please?" Cinderella gasped. "I'm afraid I can't keep up like this, especially not...you understand."

Drizella harrumphed, but slowed down with - again - the air of someone selflessly making a sacrifice for the sake of others.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

Cinderella smiled, or tried to smile at least as best her nerves would allow. "How are you settling in, Drizella? How are you finding it here after a few days?"

"Hmph," Drizella said. "Why do you care?"

"Because...I want you to be happy here."

"Huh!" Drizella declared. "If you wanted me to be happy then why did you marry the prince?"

Cinderella was so taken aback by this that even once she had understood that what seemed at first like a non sequitur actually had a point behind it she was still too flabbergasted to actually reply for several moments; moments in which she must have gaped like a fool with her mouth open to catch flies. "I'm not going to make myself unhappy just to please you, or deny my own happiness for the sake or yours."

"That's a little selfish, don't you think?"

"Would you do any different if our places were switched?"

"Of course not!" Drizella cried, as if the very notion was absurd. "But I never pretended to care about you. You pretend to be so kind and generous but you still care more about yourself than about anyone else. You're no better than I am, you just like to pretend you are."

"I..." Cinderella hesitated. Her mouth felt dry, and when she swallowed there was a dusty, brackish taste in her throat. Drizella was wrong, and Cinderella knew in her heart that Drizella was wrong, and she was sure that if she asked Eugene or her friends to be honest with her they would tell her the same thing too. Drizella was wrong...but Cinderella didn't know how to say that she was wrong without being very unkind to Drizella, and yet she also knew that if she said nothing then her stepsister would believe she had no answer and count it as a victory.

"You're right, of course I care about myself," Cinderella said. "I want to be happy, I want to be loved, and I don't see that I should be ashamed of that. But I care about other people as well: my husband, my friends, my stepson, His Majesty...the people of this country. I care about all of them."

"And you think I don't?" Drizella demanded.

"I didn't say that," Cinderella replied. "I know you love your mother and sister, I just..." She sighed. "Why do we have to fight, Drizella? All I asked was how you were, is that so wrong? Why...why can't we talk, as sisters? That's all I want...it's all I ever wanted."

Drizella turned up her nose. "My sister's name is Anastasia. I don't need or want another one."

Cinderella looked down, the folds of her skirt descending down to the ground. Of course. She should have known that; she should have always known that. Her father probably should have known that too. Lonely Cinderella might have welcomed a pair of new sisters but Drizella and Anastasia had no need of such, they had each other after all. What they had needed was a servant, clearly. "That doesn't mean we can't be friends," she asked, somewhat plaintively. "Does it?"

Drizella said nothing. When Cinderella looked up she saw that her stepsister was glowering down at her. Cinderella couldn't meet her gaze, it retreated downwards once again. She began to fuss with the sapphire bracelet around her right arm, tugging it this way and that, pulling it up towards her elbow, feeling the silver in which the jewels were set upon her skin, playing with it as she waited for a response.

 _If she really isn't happy here then...then perhaps it's for the best that she does go home. I don't want to keep her here if it's making her unhappy._

A single word dropped from Drizella's lips. "Maybe."

Cinderella looked up, an involuntary gasp springing from her mouth. "Really?"

Drizella shrugged in a supremely disinterested manner. "Perhaps."

Cinderella couldn't have stopped the bright smile from spreading across her face even if she wanted to. "Oh, thank you, Drizella!" she cried, holding out her hands.

Drizella took them with only a little reluctance. "Your engagement ring is very pretty," she said.

"Yes, it's lovely, isn't it?" Cinderella replied. "Are you happy here, Drizella? Are you settling in alright?"

"I suppose," Drizella admitted.

"I'm so glad," Cinderella said. "Everyone is so nice once you get to know them, I'm sure that if you give it a chance...I hope that you can love this place just as much as I do."

* * *

As Cinderella and Drizella wandered away, Christine - ooh, sorry, 'Lady Christine' - watched them with a touch of distaste upon an otherwise neutral expression.

"So," she said. "That is how it is. Family comes first in favour. I suppose that's only to be expected."

That was a statement so absurd upon its face that none of the other ladies quite knew how to respond. They simply stared at her, a fact of which she seemed wholly oblivious.

"That...that isn't exactly how it is," Marinette murmured.

"It might be wise, my lady," Angelique said, with all the sarcastic emphasis that someone who insisted upon being called Lady Christine deserved. "To refrain from making such statements until you have a clearer idea of how things are here."

Christine glanced down at her. "Forgive me, Lady Bonnet," she said in a tone of impeccable politeness. "I was merely making an observation of what I saw before me. The princess does not favour her stepsister?"

"Cinderella's attitude is...a little too nuanced to be so easily described by a word like favour," Augustina said. "What do you know about her past?"

"The same as everyone else," Christine said. "I read the papers, as the whole country did."

 _There's a fair amount that didn't make the papers,_ Angelique thought, although she said, "You read the papers and yet you still think she might favour her stepsister?"

"Her highness does favour her, with her sole attentions," Christine said.

Angelique glanced at Augustina with a look of silent exasperation on her face.

Augustina coughed into one hand. "Lady Christine...if you try and reduce everything that Cinderella does to a game of 'who's in, who's out', if you try and interpret her every word and movement as though her true purposes and intentions can be divined through astrology, if you expect her to play politics...you'll drive yourself mad before you learn anything useful. The sooner you accept that Cinderella has no face but that which she presents to the world, and that her words and deeds are driven by compassion not machiavellian cunning, then you will learn more and sleep easier."

Christine blinked. "With all due respect, Mademoiselle du Bois, to say that a woman who once forced the premier into resigning in order to ram through the policy of her choice does not play politics seems borderline absurd on its face."

"That depends on what you call playing," Angelique said. "Cinderella was always open about what she wanted to do and, when she had the chance, she did it. I don't see much playing about that. And, with respect, Lady Christine, to be frank you aren't going to make many friends around here with an attitude like yours."

"I'm not here to make friends," Christine replied. "I'm here to serve the princess."

"The greatest service Cinderella requires is friendship," Angelique said. "There aren't many in the world that she can count on, so she needs to be able to count on us."

Christine was silent for a moment. "And yet you'd have me believe that she does not favour her own family."

"Drizella is an exception," Angelique said. "One that none of us can really understand."

"And yet you advised me to try and interpret her highness' actions," Christine said. "It seems there are at least some of her behaviours which require interpretation."

It was hard to tell, but Angelique thought Christine was smirking.

* * *

Cinderella felt happier as she and Drizella returned to the other ladies. They had taken the first step together, Drizella and herself, and if they could only build upon this...Cinderella was under no illusions. It would not all be easy from now on. Doubtless there would still be times when Drizella would be angry with her, would berate and insult her, would act as though she hated Cinderella. But so long as she knew that there was a chance, so long as she knew that the destination she wanted to reach was not a mythical shangri-la then she could keep climbing no matter how hard the trail became.

Unfortunately, she now had to speak to Marinette.

"Marinette," Cinderella said, as they drew close. "I'd like a word in private, please."

Angelique and Augustina looked curious about that. Christine, by contrast, looked as though she couldn't care less. Drizella had her back to Cinderella as she walked away, and her expression could not be seen. Marinette looked as though she were on her way to a funeral.

"Of course," she murmured, as she picked up her skirt and walked across the grass towards Cinderella.

They followed the dirt road down which the carriages of their procession had descended on this place, pausing every so often to pet the horses who had had so faithfully pulled the coaches here.

Cinderella said as she rubbed the snout of one of white horses who had pulled the carriage in which she and Eugene had rode, listening it to snuffle contentedly.

"I'm sure that you know what this is about," Cinderella said softly.

"Yes," Marinette said, with equal quietness.

Cinderella sighed, and her brow furrowed into a slight frown as she looked at Marinette. "Why did you talk to Eugene instead of to me?"

Marinette's eyes glanced downwards. "Because I didn't think you'd listen."

Cinderella was silent for a moment, because of course Marinette was right about that. "I would still have rather you tried, first anyway. Did you really think it was worth bothering Eugene with?"

"I thought...I thought that if his highness thought I was wasting his time he could tell me so," Marinette said. "But if he didn't...it seemed better to tell him and risk it than keep it to myself. I'm sorry-"

"I don't need you to apologise, Marinette," Cinderella said tenderly. "I'm not even upset at what you did."

Marinette looked up. "You're not?"

"No," Cinderella said. "How can I be angry that you care for me? How can I be angry that you're solicitous of my well-being. But I am a little disappointed in you, that you thought you were a better judge of your wellbeing than I was." She sighed once more. "Drizella can be difficult, and I suppose I can appreciate how she might seem to someone who isn't used to her...but you really have nothing to worry about; she isn't going to hurt me, and she's nothing that I can't handle. We even took a wonderful first step today."

Marinette looked sunk in misery, so sunk in fact that it even looked as though her eyes were starting to water.

"Marinette?" Cinderella murmured, putting her hands on other young lady's shoulders. "Marinette, what's the matter? Whatever it is, you can tell me, you should know that."

Marinette screwed up her face. "Cinderella...do you know why it was me who spoke to his highness, not Augustina or Angelique?"

"No," Cinderella said.

"It's because I heard...I made all of these excuses for Lucien," Marinette said, practically crying it out into Cinderella's face. "And if I didn't make them then my mother did. He was a good boy, a sensitive soul, he didn't mean any harm, he was misunderstood, he just needed some compassion and a helping hand and all of it lies. All of it...delusions." Marinette shuddered. "He was a wicked young man and he hurt you. He hurt you and I let him. Because I didn't do anything. I can't let that happen again, I can't do nothing again."

"Oh, Marinette," Cinderella whispered, as she embraced the other girl in a hug. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realise that...you don't bear any blame for what Lucien did. If I didn't tell you that, if I let you think anything different I am truly sorry from the bottom of my heart." She held her close. Marinette's cheek was cold against Cinderella's own. "But Drizella isn't Lucien. She isn't using me and she certainly doesn't desire me. I really don't think she means me any harm at all."

"I...I'm sure you're right."

Cinderella stepped back, but kept a hold of Marinette's shoulders. "So next time, speak to me before you speak to my husband, if you wouldn't mind?"

"Yes," Marinette said, nodding vigorously. Yes, of course, I'm...I'll do that."

Cinderella chuckled. "Now, that little talk is the last unpleasant thing that I intend to do or say today. This is a day to enjoy ourselves and we are going to do just that, yes?"

"Yes," Marinette said, with a little laugh.

"Then let's go rejoin the others," Cinderella said, as she took Marinette by the arm and led her back to rejoin the other ladies.

* * *

Grace wore the face of Vanessa and the garb of a pretty shepherdess as she crouched within the dark the gloomy confines of the wood and spied upon the princess and her party by the river-bank.

She was not in a position where she could set her own eyes upon them; that would have been too risky, if someone spotted her before the time was right then everything might be ruined. She could not be seen until the last possible moment when she would rush out and save the day, earning the gratitude of the court and the opportunity to move on to the next stage of her plan.

She was not in any position overlooking the revels of Cinderella and the others, rather she was scrying them in the puddle of water over which she crouched.

Her stolen lips twisted into a sneer. _The last unpleasant thing? Poor Cinderella. By the time this day is done you won't even remember that as being unpleasant. The bad will have been driven out by the horrific._

She was keeping her eyes on Cinderella at the moment, if only because she was integral to the plan that she had devised. For this part, at least. Later she would become insignificant, in fact the entire point of Grace's plan was to render her insignificant in the end, but for now she remained vital. The King and Prince were both thoroughly old-fashioned men in many ways, they would react more strongly to danger to Cinderella than to themselves, and their gratitude for her salvation would be much greater than it would be for their own. Especially now that she carried Prince Eugene's child and the future of the dynasty in her belly. If she saved the prince, even if she rescued the King, then she would be rewarded handsomely no doubt, but any purse of coin that she received would be expected to be the end of it. Save the beloved princess, however, and the gratitude of the prince and his father would be practically without limit. For as long as she needed it to be, at least.

Grace took a deep breath. The plan she had devised was brilliant, but it required a great amount of magic to make it work. She would be nearly exhausted for some time after. Not that it mattered, provided that everything went according to plan today.

Everything was in place; everything except Cinderella herself. It only remained to get her where Grace wanted, no, needed her to be.

Grace's sneer became a smirking smile as she spotted how it could be done.

* * *

Cinderella had, true to her word to Eugene, rejoined him after speaking with Drizella and Anastasia, and the two of them wandered, arm in arm, close to the river bank.

Around them, the servants had almost completed their work, and it would soon be time to eat. For now, however, they wandered arm-in-arm as Eugene finished describing a book that he had read.

"That sounds very sad," Cinderella murmured.

"Do you really think so?" Eugene asked. "That isn't really how it struck me, I confess."

"But the poor princess," Cinderella insisted. "She fell in love with the impostor king, not the real one. She never loved the true king at all, she never agreed to marry him, that was all the fake. But the real king is the one that she has to marry, and to live with her whole life even if he is a brute and a boor. She should have run away with the impostor when it all came out."

"She wouldn't have been a princess if she'd done that," Eugene said.

"No," Cinderella admitted, tightening her grip a little upon Eugene's arm. "But she would have been happy, and from what you've told me I can't say the same of her now."

"Probably because I haven't told it right," Eugene said. "The king has been changed by his captivity; he's a better man by the end of the story than he was when it began."

"But he still isn't the man she fell in love with," Cinderella said.

"Does that make it impossible for her to come to love someone else, over a lifetime of marriage?" Eugene asked. "Do honestly believe that we are like swans, the cupid's bow fires only once for each of us? It cannot be so, or you would not wear those rings upon your finger."

 _Yet if you were taken from me I would never love another, though I live for another hundred years,_ Cinderella thought, but did not say. She didn't want him to mistake her, or to think that she was trying to make his love for her seem less than that which she felt for him. She would never do that, in thought or word or deed. But there was no other for her but him in all the world, she believed that wholeheartedly.

"Perhaps you're right," she said softly. "In fact I'm sure that you're right, but all the same...she should have gone with him, the impostor. Even if he was only a private gentleman, I'm sure that with their love they could be happy together."

"Stripped of all the luxuries in which she has grown up," Eugene said. "Is love so strong it can make up for the loss of such?"

"Of course, can you doubt it?" Cinderella asked. "If..." she chuckled. "This may sound absurd, but if you turned to be an impostor, if it turned out that you had never been Prince Eugene of Armorique but a mere English gentleman pretending to be him to keep Duke Henry off the throne...I would go with you. I would go with you and I wouldn't hesitate for a moment. I wouldn't stay and be the wife of the real Prince Eugene, a stranger to me."

Eugene grinned boyishly. "Well I'm glad that you say that, darling, because as it turns out-"

Cinderella laughed gaily. "Oh, stop." She shook her head. "You know I probably would have believed you if you'd told me that without describing the book first."

"Really?"

"Yes, because I trust you," Cinderella said. "Which is why you shouldn't tease me. A gentleman and a true prince would never take advantage of his princess' love so."

It was at that point that Cinderella noticed something out the corner of her eye. Startled, she looked away from Eugene and down the rapid-flowing river to see Philippe teetering the very edge of the river bank, leaning out over the water and reaching down into the rushes that broke the surface as they grew along the bank.

"Philippe!" Cinderella cried, her heart pounding as she rushed down the river bank ahead of Eugene. She swooped down on Philippe and swept him up in her arms, wrenching him away from the river bank and holding him tight, his arms and face resting on her shoulder as she walked quickly away from the water. "Philippe, you mustn't do that it's far too dangerous! What were you doing?"

"I was trying to catch a frog," Philippe said, sounding more disappointed at having failed in his endeavour than he was contrite at having done something so foolish.

Cinderella could feel her bosom heaving with concern, it took a few deep breaths before she was ready to speak again. "Trying to catch a frog?" she repeated. Cinderella was not much practiced in an imperious tone, such as her own stepmother had used to scare her into obedience, but she gave it a game attempt nevertheless. Cinderella held Philippe away from her, just a little, so that she could look at him. He didn't seem to want to look at her, looking instead at the river or else at his father coming up behind.

"Philippe, look at me please," Cinderella said, and only when the boy did so did she continue. "That was very, very foolish of you. You could easily have fallen into the water and no one might have seen you. No one would have seen you if your father and I hadn't happened to be nearby. You would have drowned and then..." Cinderella took another deep breath. "You frightened me."

"I'm sorry, stepmother."

"I don't want you to be sorry, I'm not angry," Cinderella said. "I was frightened, and so I want you to promise me and your father that you'll be careful in future."

Philippe lapsed into a kind of sullen silence that suggested he had intended to go right back to frog-catching as soon as Cinderella let go of him.

"Philippe?" Cinderella said.

"I promise, stepmother," Philippe said. "I promise, papa."

Eugene simply laughed a little as he ruffled Philippe's hair.

"And second of all," Cinderella said. "It's very cruel of you to just snatch frogs up from there home so that you can play with them." She knew that because she'd heard the frogs themselves say so. "It's selfish and unkind, and I know that you're not a selfish or an unkind boy, are you?"

"No, stepmother."

"No, you sweet boy," Cinderella said, kissing him on the cheek before she knelt down to put him on the ground. "Now go find your grandmother, and be careful."

Philippe sped off, keeping safely away from the river this time.

Cinderella felt Eugene's arm around her waist as she stood up. "I can't imagine why you're worried about your maternal qualities."

Cinderella smiled as she placed her hands on top of his. "You're very sweet to say so."

"Although...if we have a son you might not want to mollycoddle him quite so much."

Cinderella looked up at him. "What do you think I should have done instead? What if he'd fallen in?"

"I fell into the stream back home twice, it didn't do me any harm," Eugene said. "Both times someone pulled me out and here I am."

"My mother would never have let me so near a river, or even a pond," Cinderella said.

"It's different for girls," Eugene replied blithely. "It's good for young boys to skin their knees a little growing up."

Cinderella pursed her lips together. "Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I am spoiling him, and I'm sorry for that...but his grandmother trusts me to look after him, if I let anything happen to him because I was letting him skin his knees..."

"She wouldn't forgive you."

"I wouldn't forgive myself," Cinderella corrected him. "And if it is a boy...I'm afraid I can't imagine not being the same way, even if that does make me a bad mother."

Eugene kissed her on the forehead. "I can't imagine you ever being a truly bad mother. You seem much better today."

"I feel much better today," Cinderella said. "I don't feel anything like as tired, or as faint." She smiled. "You know there are times when I wake up and I still can't believe that this is real. I'm having a baby. Our baby."

"It is real," Eugene said. "It's real, and it's the most wonderful thing in the world."

* * *

Grace snorted. _Not a bad mother indeed. On the evidence thus far presented you will be a terrible mother, for you treat the little brat so much like you're own that your actual son will doubtless be wracked with jealousy and grow up hating everything about you._ No matter. Cinderella would never get that far in any event. Not if Grace's plan succeeded.

And Grace had just seen key. That little boy whom Cinderella loved like a son. He was going to drag Cinderella exactly where Grace needed her to be.

Grace muttered a brief incantation. The spell was called Maleficent's Light, and despite the lofty sounding name, associated with one of the greatest of witches and sorceresses past, it was a very simple spell. It conjured a light that only its intended victim could see that, when they looked upon it, so hypnotised them that they would follow it anywhere and could not be stopped until the spell ceased. A simple spell, but somewhat limited in utility, not least because a strong mind could resist it quite easily. Prince Eugene, His Majesty, even Cinderella herself would all be immune to its allure; most adults were unless they were somehow incapacitated by sorrow or rendered in some way vulnerable by an excess of debilitating emotion. But children...children were different, especially children so young as Philippe. They lacked the will and intellect necessary to resist, and hence they were easy prey.

Grace cast the spell, and through her scrying she could see the eerie green light appear in front of young Philippe, and she could see his eyes widen and his expression go somewhat vacant as the light held him spellbound.

She could lead him wherever she wished now, even back to the river to drown. But, while that might have given Cinderella some much-deserved heartache, it wouldn't really have availed Grace at all. No, she had other plans.

The light began to move slowly in the direction of the forest, and Philippe began to follow it.

* * *

Lunch was nearly ready to be served, but as the last of the pies and cakes were spread out across the ground Eugene was drawn off by his father. He left Cinderella behind with the rest of the assembled party as he followed his father up a hill to where a single sycamore tree stood. There, under the shade of the tree, his father stopped and looked out.

It was an impressive view, the river cutting through the fields and meadows like a great blue snake, the meadows and the ploughed fields intermingling. On the other side of the river Eugene could see a farmer working just such a field, leading a strong plough-horse behind him, while a pair of crofters felled a tree at the edge of the forest. With barely a movement of his head Eugene was able to glance between the lovely princess in her gown and jewels, surrounded by her attendants, and the salt of the earth upon the other side of the stream hard at work. It was as if this place held Armorique in microcosm. The whisper of the breeze and the babble of the river intermingled with the sounds of chatter from the people below them to produce a sound that was almost melodic.

"You chose a fine place to stop, father," Eugene said, mirroring the way that his father stood, hands clasped behind his back, as he waited for the older man to tell him what he wanted.

"I proposed to your mother beneath this tree," Father said, his voice barely rising above the breeze.

Eugene's eyebrows rose as he looked down upon his father. "Really? I thought grandmother arranged everything with her parents."

"That didn't absolve me from the need to do it properly," his father declared, voice rising a little. He looked up at his son with a wry smile upon his face. "I know that you think I was impatient with you to wed, son, but I hope you realise that I could have been far less indulgent of your desire for romance. I was indulgent because, well, I felt much the same way, once."

Eugene said nothing. He had no desire to hurry his father along or press him for the point. He waited, content to let what his father wished to say unfold at its own pace.

His Father walked across the hill, coming to stand on the other side of the tree, leaving Eugene to follow behind him.

"I needed to marry your mother," he said. "Far more than she needed to marry me. I'd spent my youth abroad, for the most part. I only returned home for good to become King. I was not well known, not well liked; your mother was both. I had my partisans, my brother had his, but your mother...the nobility and the people alike both loved her with all their hearts. For the sake of my position on the throne I had to marry her.

"But I...I didn't want to take her that way. I...heaven help me I wanted to win her heart; it seemed so much easier than winning the heart of the kingdom. And so I wooed her, and won her, and I proposed beneath this very tree where she...well, of course she said yes or we wouldn't be standing here talking about it, would we?"

Eugene snorted. "Indeed not. You...you've never told me that before."

"The time was not right before," his father said. He sighed, a deep sigh born of an equally deep contentment. "It has been some years since I have felt as content in my good fortune as I do now. It's been a long time since I have felt as I did when you were young and your mother was still with us, when I felt as though I was the most fortunate of men, to be king and husband and father all and in all three roles beloved. It has been a long time, but..."

Eugene grinned. "It's been a long time since I've seen you in such a contemplative mood, father."

His father let out a guffaw of laughter. "That's because I haven't wanted to contemplate too closely for fear of what my contemplation would reveal." He tugged at his moustache as he affixed his gaze upon the farmer in the field. "There was a time not too long ago when I would have asked who was the more fortunate, myself or a lowly farmer with his cottage and family and I would not have known the answer."

"You are a king," Eugene declared incredulously.

"A widowed king, growing old and apart from his only son, growing cold in the possibility that with that son his line would end," his Father said. "The farmer lacks a crown, true; he has no wealth, he does not enjoy vast lands; he dwells in a humble cottage instead of a palace. But he has a family, children all around him, maybe grandchildren too, a loving wife if the gods are good, and the wives of his sons to care for him. So who was the more fortunate, really? Me in my lonely state, or the humble ploughman rich in love?"

Eugene was silent awhile, staring down at his aged father. "Father...I had no idea that you...I didn't realise...forgive me; I was so blinded by my selfish desires that I had no idea the effect that I was having upon you." He got down on one knee. "Forgive me, I beg you."

"Oh, get up!" Father snapped. "I'm not telling you all this to make you feel guilty, for heaven's sake! And besides, if you had married sooner you would have married differently, no doubt, and that...that is not an outcome on which I wish to dwell. You chose well in Cinderella. You chose so well that I cannot imagine a better choice you could have made. And so, if I was irritated by your failure to marry...I am forced to concede the maid you chose was well worth the wait."

"She has made me a better man."

"Marriage has that effect on all men, fatherhood will make an impact more pronounced yet," his Father rejoined. "I didn't ask you here, I'm telling you this because I want to prick your conscience, Eugene. I'm telling you this...because I want to thank you. I no longer doubt that I am indeed amongst the most fortunate of men, more fortunate by far then any farmer of ploughman."

"Because I'm married?"

"Because I have a family again," Father replied. "A son come home for good, a dutiful and devoted daughter-in-law, a grandson, and an heir to my line on the way. I feel..." His father was silent for a few moments as he lit a cigar and puffed upon it. The end glowed golden in his mouth. "I feel content, as I have not in some time." He offered Eugene a cigar.

Eugene shook his head. "Cinderella doesn't like the smell on my breath."

Father snorted. "As I said, marriage changes a man." He flicked some ash away. "I feel as though the fate of the kingdom is in good hands."

"God grant it stay in your hands for many years yet," Eugene said. "I'm not sure I could do all that you do."

"You'll manage," Father said. "But I have no intention of dying just yet. Not before I've welcome my second grandchild into the world, at least."

Eugene nodded. "I'm glad, for I shall be relying on you to teach me how to be a good father when the time comes."

"You're worried?"

Eugene said, "Cinderella spends more time with my son than I do, shows him more love than I do and she isn't even his mother. What if...what if I don't have it in me to love a child the way that Cinderella does, the way that you loved me?"

Father snorted disdainfully. "Before you start looking for deficiencies in your soul, why don't you consider the fact that you spent years ignoring the boy and that Cinderella had to drag you to see him practically by the ear. Time and distance...when Cinderella's time comes, when you are allowed into the birthing room and you see that bundle of life crying and squirming in the midwife's arms...you'll find out then just how much you can love, I guarantee it."

Eugene opened his mouth to respond, but whatever words he might have said were snatched away as the sound of Cinderella screaming pierced the air.

* * *

Cinderella spread her skirt around her as she sat down. "Isn't this lovely?" she said, looking around the faces of the gathering. Except someone was missing. "Where's Philippe?"

There was no answer, not even from his grandmother.

Cinderella looked around. "Philippe? Philippe?"

Other voices took up the call: his grandmother, Marinette, Angelique, all calling out to him with no response.

Cinderella felt a touch of panic rising in her throat. "Philippe?" she cried. "Philippe, can you hear me?" _Please, tell me he didn't go back to the river after he promised me that he'd be careful._ "Who saw him last?"

"Your highness," Jean caught her attention, pointing behind her towards the forest. "I think that's him there."

Cinderella stood up, turning round to follow Jean's outstretched arm and pointed finger. It was Philippe, she could recognise him even at a distance, and he had wandered up the hill and was even now walking into the shadowed eves of the forest.

"Philippe!" Cinderella called out to him. "Don't wander too far, come back here. Philippe?" Her stepson didn't reply. He didn't look back, he didn't stop. He just kept on walking.

"He's probably too far away to hear you, highness," Jean said. "I'll fetch him back on the double."

"Oh, no, don't trouble yourself, Jean," Cinderella said. "I'll go."

Jean frowned. In fact he looked distinctly sceptical. "Are you sure, your highness? I can cover the ground as quickly and-"

"If you're about to say something about your condition, Jean, please don't," Cinderella said. "I'm getting just a little fed up with them. I'm quite capable of walking there and back without difficulty." To prove her point, she began to do just that.

"Wait, your highness," Madame Clairval called. "He's my grandson, I should fetch him when he's being silly, there's no call for you to trouble yourself."

"It's no trouble at all, Madame," Cinderella replied. "And I'm afraid I couldn't let you wear yourself out on my account. If Eugene returns, please tell him that I won't be long, and there's really no need to wait for me before you all start eating. Enjoy yourselves, everyone; we'll be back soon." And with that she set off, holding up the hem of her skirt with both hands as she strolled briskly across the meadow. She called out Philippe's name as she walked, but either he still couldn't hear her or he was deliberately ignoring her - she very much hoped that it was the former - as he continued to walk into the wood itself.

Cinderella was not the tallest of women, or the most active and agile, but she was at least taller than a four year old boy and she swiftly began to gain ground upon him. By the time she began climbing the hill she was definitely catching up. "Philippe," Cinderella called as she ascended the hill. "Philippe, come back, you must come back. Philippe, stop!"

She was beginning to get a little upset with him by now, as there was no way that he couldn't hear her. He had to be ignoring her, but why? Was he upset with her after what had happened by the riverside? Would he have stopped if his grandmother had come to fetch him? And what did he want in this wood so badly?

"Philippe, please come back," Cinderella said, as she followed him into the forest. "You'll get lost in here, and how would we find you? Philippe, answer me!"

Cinderella quickened her pace as she followed the child into the forest, twigs snapping beneath the heels of her slippers while fallen branches made her steps wobble as they slipped and rolled beneath Cinderella's feet. She held out her hands for balance as she walked more quickly, because she couldn't lose sight of Philippe in this place, this wood that was so dark and overgrown. The trees had grown so thickly together here that the sunlight barely penetrated through, everything was lost in a maze of gloom and shadow. If Philippe got lost in here, if she lost Philippe in here, then he might never be found again.

She ignored the sounds of the forest around her, paying no attention to the tweeting or the birds or the chattering of the little forest creatures as they talked amongst themselves of a stranger in the forest. Clearly they had noticed her, or perhaps Philippe. It didn't matter, they'd both be gone soon enough.

Cinderella made herself gasp for breath as she quickened her steps yet further, running now the last distance that separated them to reach out with one hand and clasp Philippe firmly by the shoulder. "Philippe, stop!"

Philippe whirled around, gasping in shock as he looked at her. "Stepmother!" he cried. "Wh...where are we?"

Cinderella looked sternly down at him. "It isn't polite to tell lies, Philippe," she said. "Or make up stories, or to ignore me when I call you."

"I didn't!"

"You wandered in here," Cinderella said. "And you ignored everyone who tried to call to you, including me. I told you to come back and you completely ignored me; you've been very rude, not to mention that you could have gotten lost in here after you promised me that you wouldn't do such things."

"But I didn't, stepmother!" Philippe cried. "Or...I don't remember it. I don't remember doing it. The last thing I remember is running away from you and then...and then I don't remember."

Cinderella frowned. "Never mind," she said, her tone softening. "Let's go back to-"

 _"The stranger is coming."_

 _"Heading towards the men."_

 _"He's almost there."_

Cinderella's eyes widened. The birds had told her that, the birds whose calls were flitting between the trees. They had talked of a stranger, as they had been since she'd been able to make out their call. A stranger in the forest that she had taken for herself or Philippe. But this stranger was heading towards the men, and it seemed likely that they were the men because...well, neither Cinderella nor Philippe was heading anywhere any more.

Something was coming towards them.

Something that the creatures of the wood found strange and unnatural.

A hundred monstrous images filled Cinderella's mind, each more terrible than the last.

"Stepmother," Philippe said. "What's wrong?"

"Hush now, Philippe, and keep hold of me," Cinderella said, scooping him up in her arms. If she went straight back the way she came then she should be able to reach the edge of the wood without difficulty.

Cinderella shivered as she heard a deep, snuffling growling sound that could only be made by a very large creature.

A bear, a great black bear, strode out of the shadows of the deep wood and stared at her.

It bared its teeth and snarled.

Cinderella screamed as she turned to run, holding tight onto Philippe as she fled as fast as she could out of the forest. She could hear the bear pursuing her, its feet pounding on the ground. She had to get out. She had to get back to the others, there were so many guards that surely the bear wouldn't dare go near them. Surely their numbers would frighten it off.

They hadn't gone that far into the wood, already Cinderella could see the sunlight from the eves, she was nearly there. She was nearly there she only-

Cinderella stumbled on the edge of the wood, a lance of pain shooting up her leg from her ankle; it was only by a miracle that she didn't fall flat on her face. Instead she collapsed onto her knees, and when she tried to get up she found she couldn't. Something was clamped around her ankle. Cinderella threw back her skirt and petticoat to see that she hot gotten her foot caught in a tangle of tree roots, her ankle throbbed with pain and she couldn't get her foot out. She tugged, and with one hand she tried to pull away the roots but it was no good. She was stuck.

And the bear was getting closer, the black monster charging towards her with fangs bared, claws digging into the ground.

"Run, Philippe!" Cinderella shouted at him. "Run, run to your father!"

He didn't move. He looked frozen by fear, paralysed in the face of the bear's ferocity. He stood still in front of her, trembling but otherwise unmoving.

Cinderella held him, pulling him close and trying to shield him with her body. "I love you," she whispered.

She screamed again as the bear closed in.

The roar of the bear and the scream of the princess were both ridden roughshod over by the sharp report of a pistol, the sound of which startled the birds out of all the nearby trees and even stilled the bear for just a moment.

For the briefest of instances silence reigned, broken by the wild and wordless yell of Jean Taurillion as she charged up the hill. He cast his discharged pistol to the ground, acrid smoke still rising from the barrel, and he wrenched his sword free of its scabbard so that the sabre blade caught the sunlight and gleamed as bright as hope in his hand.

Cinderella couldn't tell if Jean had hit the bear with his shot or not, but as he charged past her and hurled himself upon the animal she could tell that he hit it with his blade. He slashed at the bear's face, carving a bleeding X into its fur before the bear reared up on it's hind legs, towering over Jean as it roared and brandished its clawed paws before it.

Jean kept on shouting, kept on yelling defiance into the bear's face as she slashed at its chest. The bear slashed at him in turn. Jean darted back, leaning out of the way of the stroke before he dove forward, driving his shining sword point first into the chest of the bear.

The bear howled in a mixture of pain and fury, and its swiping stroke caught Jean on the side of the head.

He went down like a discarded sack of vegetables, landing on the ground in a heap, and then the bear was on him.

"No!" Cinderella shouted, as the bear grabbed him by the scruff of the neck in its jaws and started shaking him up and down, side to side like a cat that had just caught a mouse. Jean's defiant shout turned into a scream of agony as the bear threw him onto the ground and started savaging him with its claws, tearing at his chest as though it were digging for grubs in the ground.

Cinderella couldn't look. She couldn't watch as someone so brave, someone she loved, was...she closed her eyes and looked away as they filled with tears, wishing that she could have shut her ears so easily.

 _I'm sorry, Jean. I'm so sorry._

"Run, Philippe," Cinderella implored. "You have to run, now, quickly."

 _That way...Jean will have saved you._

"Away! Get away from her, get away!"

Cinderella opened her eyes. A woman stood before her, with long dark hair falling down her back. In each hand she held a burning brand and without a trace of fear she thrust the brands into the face of the angry bear.

"Back! Back!" she cried fiercely. "Get away from her!"

The bear recoiled from the burning flames, backing away and letting out a low, frightened growl as it retreated. The woman pressed forward, bearing her fire before her.

The bear stood its ground for a moment, even as its face twisted in fright and panic. And then it fled, turning tail and loping off into the dark of the woods.

The girl held her burning brands before her for a few more moments, until the sight and even the sound of the bear were lost, and then she sagged forward with an exhausted sigh.

A moment later and Cinderella was surrounded by people. Soldiers. Her own guards, and the dragoons, with their weapons ready. A few of them took off into the woods, she thought…her eyes were so filled with water, but she thought her sergeant led them. Someone, or more than one someone, freed her leg and suddenly Eugene was holding her and Philippe both, his arms enfolding them, holding them tight.

"Oh God," Eugene murmured, his whole body trembling. "Oh God, are…are you alright? Oh God I'm so…are you alright?"

"I…I think so," Cinderella sobbed. "But…but Jean."

"He's alive!" Angelique yelled. "He's still alive, help! Get some help!"

Cinderella gasped with shock. He was…Jean was still alive, but…she twisted in Eugene's grasp, turning her whole body until she could see Jean. Angelique was crouched over him, her dress stained with blood, there was so much blood, blood coming from everywhere, covering everything but his chest…yes, she could see Jean's chest rising and falling, if only faintly, and there was…was that is breathing she could hear, that awful rattling sound?

 _Oh, Jean, I'm so sorry._

"Can you stand up?" Eugene asked softly.

"I…I don't know," Cinderella admitted. With Eugene's help she tried to rise. Her ankle protested, it screeched in pain…but she could stand on it, and it did not collapse under her. All the same, she held on to Eugene. She didn't think that she could have let go even if she'd wanted to right now. She was shaking like a leaf.

She couldn't let go.

She didn't want to let go.

Eugene didn't let go of her either. He kept one arm around her even as he addressed Cinderella's rescuer. "Mademoiselle, I owe you a debt that I can never repay. You have saved my wife and son."

"Thank you," Cinderella said. "Thank you so much, for both our sakes."

The girl turned to face them. Her eyes were blue, her features sharp and proud; but she bowed her head regardless, and essayed a clumsy curtsy. "I only did what was right, your highness."

"No, my dear, you have done far more than that," declared His Majesty as he walked up the hill. His face was pale with fear, though he was doing more to conceal the fact than Cinderella or Eugene. "You have safeguarded the future of my line, and no reward can be too great for that." He glanced down at Jean. "How is he?"

"I…I don't know," Angelique said. "He needs help."

"And he will have it," declared His Majesty. "And as for you, Mademoiselle, will you please come with me where we can discuss a reward appropriate for your service."

The girl hesitated for a moment. "Of course, your majesty, I'll come, and thank you kindly."

"What is your name, my dear."

"Vanessa, your majesty," she said. "My name's Vanessa."


	7. Grief and Guilt

Grief and Guilt

Angelique stood over Jean's still and slumbering form.

She hadn't been allowed in here until the doctors and nurses were finished; she supposed that was for the best, though she'd fretted with impatience outside, and when she finally was allowed in she had torn across the room to get to him.

She was alone. There was no one else in here with her; apart from Jean of course, but...but he wasn't saying much right now. Nobody else was here beside him. Nobody else cared.

Angelique's whole face was twisted by a scowl like a spasm of pain. That wasn't fair. That wasn't fair at all, to Cinderella or to anyone. Cinderella was being looked at by her own doctor, for her ankle and to make sure that the baby was alright after everything that had happened. And everyone else...they just wanted to give them their privacy. Did she really want everyone else to be crowded in here with her?

Did she really want everyone to see Jean like this?

Did she really want them to see her like this?

Angelique let out a pitiful, squeaking, moaning sound as her head jerked round until it was almost resting on her shoulder. She couldn't control the pain cry, it slipped out between her lips without her knowledge or consent. She couldn't stop it no matter how much she wanted to.

 _Why? Why did this have to happen to you? Why do you have to be so stupid?_

 _Why do you have to be so brave?_

The room was dark, the curtains drawn and gloomy shadows all around. This was because Jean needed to rest, and the doctors said it would be easy for him to sleep in the dark without the light to disturb him. It was so dark, with only a faint and flickering candle for any sort of light, so the blood on Angelique's dress - Jean's blood, because she wasn't going to go blithely off to wash and change while Jean was suffering - was hardly visible at all.

What were visible were the bandages. They had bound up Jean's wounds, all the terrible wounds that the bear had given him. When she'd first run to his side she hadn't been able to see them for the blood, but when they started to move him she'd been able to...to see exactly what that monster had done to him. His chest, his arms, one side of his face...teeth and claws had mauled them all, and now her brave boy was covered in bandages. The white of the linen looked almost ghostly in the gloom, as though he were a phantom already. The thought brought another sobbing, mewling sound from Angelique's lips.

They still couldn't tell her if he would live or not. The doctors had done their best to clean his injuries, but if they got infected...even if they didn't Jean had lost so much blood, and Angelique had been told that he might get a fever, too.

It was all in the hands of God, so they said.

Angelique honestly wasn't sure what to think of that. She could hear Jean's voice in her head, clear as day, telling her that their lives had been blessed by good fortune.

 _The princess took us in, and gave us rich rewards and opportunities. We have a home, and friends, and a future. We have even been given lands and titles like a real lady and gentleman! What are these wonders if not a sign that we are blessed by some great power we cannot comprehend?_

 _That was all Cinderella, not God,_ Angelique thought sourly. _God hasn't done a thing for either of us, why should He start now?_

She sniffed, and told herself that it was just a sniff and not the beginning of a snivel, as she looked down at the sleeping form in the bed before her. Half his face was concealed beneath the bandages, when they came off - if they came off - he was likely to have a set of nasty scars. He had such a handsome face, had she ever told him that? Had she ever said the half the things she should have done, or had she just called him an idiot and trusted him to know how fondly she meant it?

Both his arms were swathed in bandages too, and most of his chest. Those parts of him that were not so swathed were rarer than those which were. So it looked to her, anyway.

"Jean?" Angelique whispered. "Jean...can you hear me?"

There was no response but his laboured breathing, a rattling sound that made Angelique shudder.

"Jean," Angelique repeated. "Why? Why do you have to be so...I don't even know what you are. You're...you're stupid and stubborn and reckless and it drives me mad. And you're brave and, and loyal and you're...and you're wonderful and I need you, Jean Taurillion. I need you because...because...because I love you and I don't know what I'll do without so please get better." Angelique's knees buckled beneath her as she knelt by the side of the bed, sobbing into her arms.

 _Please live. Please get better. Please, I need you._

She liked Cinderella - or she had done, until this, there was a smouldering ember or resentment beginning to build inside her now - and she liked where she was now and she liked her new friends, but Jean...Jean had always been by her side, ever since she escaped from the workhouse. They'd been together for so long, and through so much.

Most times, living the way they did, people didn't stick together very long. Either someone died, or the constables got you, or life would turn one or both of you cruel and selfish and it wasn't safe to be around them any more. Oscar had been through a half-dozen gangs in the time that Angelique had known her, and it was only her luck that she'd been offered a new life in the palace before something had happened to Penny the same as it had happened to all the rest. But Jean...Jean had remained kind and hopeful in spite of everything. He was...he was sort of like Cinderella in that regard. Perhaps that was what the princess had seen in him.

He'd been kind, and he'd been hers, and now she might lose him and she...she couldn't lose him, she just couldn't. Angelique had lived her life knowing that no matter what happened, no matter what fate threw her way, Jean would be there to help her out. He was her rock that she could always rely on.

She didn't know if she could live without that rock to stand on.

Angelique looked up as she heard the door open. She turned her head, looking down the bed to the open doorway, a stream of light emerging into the dark from the corridor beyond.

And then Cinderella stood in the doorway, her dress - stained with grass, not blood - taking up the entire space. She hadn't taken off her jewels, and the light from the corridor glinted off the sapphires and made the pearls gleam. She cast a long shadow down the room, almost touching bed where Jean lay still and almost silent.

Cinderella stepped tentatively into the room, with one hand she pushed the door halfway to closed behind her. Her shadow was eclipsed by the dark.

Angelique rose to her feet, blinking back tears as her face twisted into a grimace that was almost a snarl. She was here? Now she was here to see him? She was on the verge of baring her teeth, because at this moment she hated everything about Cinderella, from her pretty eyes to the slippers poking out from beneath the hem of her skirt because this was all her fault! It was her, who had brought Jean here and made him her guard and thrown him between her and danger as though his life didn't matter as long as she was alright-

Cinderella's hands rose to her heart. "Angelique...I'm so sorry."

It was her tone that stopped Angelique from saying or doing anything rash. If she had offered nothing but sympathy, an empty condolence for Jean's plight and Angelique's loss, then Angelique might not have been able to contain herself; but that was not what Cinderella said. Her tone had nothing of consolation. What her tone held was guilt. She wasn't consoling Angelique, she was apologising. She was apologising because she thought...because she honestly thought this was her fault.

Cinderella's guilt was like cold water dousing the inferno of Angelique's anger, because her admission of guilt and responsibility...it might sound strange, but it showed to Angelique how stupid it was. As though Cinderella had set the bear that almost killed her, as though Cinderella was responsible for the actions of her enemies, as though...as though any of this was her fault.

Jean was unconscious, but Angelique felt as though she could hear his voice regardless, telling her - reminding her - that Cinderella had done so much for both of them, and only good things besides. Reminding her that in their old life danger had been far more ever-present than it ever was here.

She felt like such a fool. She felt so ashamed of herself that she couldn't meet Cinderella's eyes but had to look away, and down at the ground. "This isn't your fault."

"He was protecting me."

"And you were protecting your son," Angelique said. "Stepson, I mean. It doesn't matter. This isn't your fault."

Cinderella walked forward, her slow steps tapping on the floor. "How is he?"

"He's...he's in the balance," Angelique said. "He might get better or he might...or he might not."

Cinderella gasped. "Angelique, I-"

"This isn't your fault, I mean it," Angelique said firmly. "Please stop saying it is or I...or I'm afraid I might start to believe it."

Cinderella was silent for a moment. "Did...did he ever tell you about the time I tried to run away?"

"Yes," Angelique said. "He…he was worried about you."

"He wasn't in the least afraid," Cinderella whispered. "His concern was all for me."

"That sounds like him," Angelique said. "He was never so afraid for himself as he was of letting other people down."

"He saved my life, so many times," Cinderella said. "Even today...if it hadn't been for him, by the time Vanessa arrived it would have been too late."

"He was brave," Angelique said. "He was so brave, and honest, and kind and so...so..." Before she knew it she was crying again, and she couldn't see for all the water in her eyes.

She didn't see Cinderella coming, but she felt the princess' arms around her, pressing her face against Cinderella's bosom. Angelique grabbed for Cinderella's dress, grabbing the ruffled shoulders and clenching them between her fists as the two sunk to their knees together.

"It's alright, Angelique," Cinderella said. "It's alright to cry."

"I don't want people to see me like this."

"There's only me here," Cinderella replied softly, soothingly, her voice like a wave washing upon a beach. "It's alright."

"I love him."

"I know," Cinderella said, as she stroked Angelique's hair.

They stayed like that for a while, and Cinderella didn't protest at Angelique using her as a pillow, at Angelique staining her dress with tears, at Angelique holding on to her for...for however long it was until Angelique stopped crying and felt ready to face the world again.

She wiped at her eyes with one arm as she stood up. "Thank you, I...I'm sorry that I've kept you here for so long but-"

"You've helped me so much, Angelique," Cinderella said. "If there's any way that I can help you, I will. Please remember that."

Angelique looked up into Cinderella's eyes. It was strange, how she could get so upset over some things, but she didn't seem in the least fazed by this. Not that Angelique blamed her, or begrudged her, rather...she was glad. Without Cinderella's strength...she wasn't sure what she would have done.

 _I always knew she was resilient, I always knew that she could bounce back quickly from just about anything. I suppose it isn't really that surprising._

"I...I should go," Angelique said.

"Are you sure?" Cinderella asked. "I don't...I mean, you can stay as long as you want to."

"I know," Angelique said. "And I'll come back. But I can't help Jean, and if I stay here I'm worried that I'll start crying again. I should leave while I still can."

"I understand," Cinderella said softly. "I'm going to stay a little longer, if that's alright."

"I'm sure he'd like that, if he knew what was going on," Angelique said. Cinderella made way for her, stepping aside so that Angelique could walk straight to the door and leave the room.

Once outside, besides blinking as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she took a deep breath and leaned against the door, bending forwards as her hair fell down around her face.

 _Get better,_ she thought. _You have to get better. You wouldn't leave me, would you?_

"How is he?"

Angelique looked up. Oscar was standing not far away, leaning against the wall, her face stern. Angelique hadn't noticed her.

Angelique frowned. "He might live...or he might not. And there's nothing I can do to help him except..."

"Except?"

"Except pray, if I thought that might do any good."

"I see," Oscar muttered. "What happened? I've heard something about a bear."

"You've heard right," Angelique said, she started to walk away, leaving Oscar to run to catch up with her. "A bear would have savaged Cinderella, the princess; Jean got in its way, he held it off for a while before the bear got chased away." She didn't name the person who had done that, because to be perfectly honest it rankled with her the way that Vanessa was being hosted by the King himself, treated as the hero of the hour while Jean was hovering between life and death. It wasn't right; he was just as much a hero as she was, and Cinderella was the only one who seemed to realise that the bear would have killed her and maybe Philippe too before Vanessa arrived if Jean hadn't thrown himself at it like he had.

"What was the princess doing upsetting a bear in the first place? I thought you went out for a picnic?"

Angelique's irritation was demonstrated by a huff. "The princess didn't do anything, she was trying to rescue her stepson. Have you met him yet?"

"You mean the little boy isn't her son?"

Angelique stopped, and looked at her. "I...no, he's not her son. He's Prince Eugene's son by another woman. Anyway, the point is that it was him who wandered into the woods and the bear must have...I don't know, the princess went to get him and the bear must have taken a disliking to them or something."

"I'm sorry," Oscar said. "When the...when he came to me...I didn't really believe this could really be dangerous."

"Are you worried?" Angelique demanded caustically.

"For Penny, yes," Oscar said. "I don't want her to get hurt."

"There aren't any bears in the palace."

"Maybe not," Oscar said. "But there are wolves everywhere."

"Lady Bonnet," Lady Christine declared as she stepped around the corridor in front of Angelique and Oscar.

Angelique scowled. "What do you want?"

"To offer my condolences," Christine said. "Lieutenant Taurillion is an officer in the finest traditions of the Guard. I will pray for his complete recovery."

Angelique blinked. Whatever she'd expected it hadn't been that. "I...thank you. That's...very kind of you."

Christine cocked her head slightly to one side. "No, Lady Bonnet," she said. "This is the merest courtesy."

* * *

Cinderella lingered in the sickroom, hovering over Jean like a bee wondering whether to dive into a flower or not.

Poor Jean. Brave Jean. Selfless Jean, who might die for her sake.

The fact that he had been willing and ready to do so did not take away the horror of that fact, or the fact that she felt – no, she _was_ – responsible. She had given him a position, and she had enthusiastically accepted him as her guard.

" _Your highness, I promise, I will protect you-"_

" _While you live. And when you die, because of me? What then? What about Angelique?"_

" _Then Angelique will know that I was her brave boy to the last; and that I died the man she always thought I was."_

"Oh, Jean," Cinderella whispered. She closed her eyes for a moment, clasping her hands together before her heart. She could feel the diamond and twin sapphires of engagement ring through the silk of her glove. How useless it all seemed, jewels and gowns and all the rest. None of it would help her now.

None of it brought her so much as a scrap of comfort.

Cinderella bowed her head. An outside observer might almost have thought that she was praying.

"Godmother," she murmured. "Godmother, can you hear me? Godmother, I don't know if you're listening, I don't know if you still care about me but please, please, if you can hear me…please answer."

Cinderella had not called upon her fairy godmother since the night of the ball. It had felt wrong, somehow, to bother her again. She had given Cinderella a chance at happiness, and whatever misfortunes might have befallen her upon the way Cinderella could say truthfully that it was a chance that she had taken with both hands. She felt in her heart, though no rules had ever been explained to her, that her fairy godmother had appeared to her on that particular night in part, perhaps, because it was the night when her stars had aligned and she had an opportunity that had never come before nor would come again; but more than that because upon that night she had been left utterly without hope. Friendship had failed in the face of her stepmother's cunning and the malice of her stepsisters, for the first time in many years Cinderella had felt utterly lost in darkness.

Things had never seemed so bad since; though the circumstances had become more grim Cinderella had nevertheless been able to find new hope with each dawn, had been able to believe that with the love of her prince and the devotion of her friends she would find a way forward to happiness and better things.

But now…now, as she stood over her friend, her friend who had suffered grievous injuries on her behalf…Cinderella had no idea who else to turn to.

"Godmother," she repeated. "Please, if you're still watching over me I beg you to give me a sign. Give me a sign…and save this boy."

"Oh, child, I think you know I can't do that."

Cinderella's eyes widened. There, on the other side of the bed, stood her fairy godmother. Her robes were the same, she looked no older than she had done before but her face…a grim expression had replaced her previous grandmotherly smile upon it.

"You're here," Cinderella gasped. _I wasn't sure you'd come._

"Did you think that I'd forgotten you, child?" Godmother asked. "Did you think that I had washed my hands of you? No. After all, you are my only god-daughter, for the moment at least. And I've been watching you, my dear, just as I did before." She smiled then, if only for a moment. "I'm so proud of the young lady that you've become."

A day earlier and that revelation would have filled Cinderella with pride, a day earlier and she would have happily chattered on about her life, her child, the palace, Eugene, everything. But now, she couldn't bring herself to respond to that compliment. To have done so in this place and at this time would have seemed hideously out of place. "Can you help him?"

"I'm afraid not, child."

"Why not?"

"Because he isn't my godson," she said.

"And he has no fairy godmother of his own," Cinderella said. "He only has me, and I can't help him."

"And neither can I," Godmother said.

"I don't understand," Cinderella said. "You transformed the mice, Bruno-"

"To help you, dear."

"This would help me," Cinderella cried. "Jean helps me, Angelique helps me, I…if you have been watching me then you what he has done for me. What he means to me."

Godmother looked sympathetic, but ultimately impotent. "I'm sorry, child."

"He might die," Cinderella said.

"And he might live," Godmother replied, glancing down at him. "That has yet to be decided. He is not without hope yet."

"Decided by who?" Cinderella asked.

Godmother didn't respond. She simply started to fade away. "Goodbye, child. Take care. And, if it isn't too inappropriate to say so, congratulations on the good news."

And then, just like that, she was gone. Vanished into a shower of sparkles.

Cinderella found it very hard to be glad that she had seen her.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. She didn't know if Jean could hear her, but she felt that it had to be said. "I'm so sorry, Jean. I'm sorry that there's nothing I can do for you…and I'm sorry that it came to this." She bent down, and kissed him gently on the forehead. "Come back, Jean. Come back to all of us."

She couldn't stay any longer. Cinderella couldn't remain here, looking at all the bandages, imagining what lay behind them, knowing that Jean had only been hurt because she came into his life she…she just couldn't. She left, walking quickly, her heels clicking on the floor as she came very close to running.

But she did not run, for the same reason that she had not cried when Angelique broke down in front of her even though…even though she had wanted to so badly. But the moment that she had opened the door, and seen Angelique on her knees by the bedside…it had so reminded her of herself, by the bedside of her father as he slipped away from her, the way she'd cried and sobbed and begged him not to go…when she had opened the door and seen that, Cinderella had known that she could not cry. Not there, not then. Angelique needed her. Even if she hated Cinderella for what she'd done she still needed her. She needed Cinderella to be strong.

And that why she didn't run. That was why there were no tears on her face as she went somewhere she didn't have to be strong any more.

She found Eugene in the study, alone. The same study, she noticed, where she had confronted him about Philippe's existence when she had learned from it. The study where they had had their first and – so far – only real argument.

Eugene was alone with the curtains half-drawn. His face was pale, and he looked a little drawn and weary.

"How is he?" he asked.

Cinderella closed the door behind her, and slid the latch into place.

Eugene frowned. "Cinderella?"

And in that room, with no one to witness it but he who loved her most in all the world, Cinderella was able to break down.

Eugene caught her before her knees could hit the floor, and as Cinderella had held Angelique so he held her, pressing her face against his chest as they descended to the floor together, stroking her hair just as she had done.

Cinderella had been Angelique's strength when she needed it, and doubtless she would be so again. But now Eugene was Cinderella's strength, as she knew he would be whenever she had need of someone to be strong for her.

She couldn't cry in front of Angelique, but she had to cry somewhere, in front of someone.

"It's alright," Eugene murmured; the same words that she had murmured not too long ago. "It will be alright."

"What if it isn't?" Cinderella sobbed. "What if…what if he dies?"

Eugene said nothing for a moment. "Cinderella…we should discuss-"

"No," Cinderella said. "No, please, I can't, not now. Please just hold me. Hold me…and tell me everything will be alright."

Eugene squeezed her gently, pressing her closer to him. "Everything will be alright," he said, and he almost sounded as though he meant it.

* * *

"Please, my dear, sit down," declared the King, gesturing with one meaty and imperious hand towards the padded armchair. "Sit down, sit down, and take your rest."

"Your majesty is far too kind to a poor maid such as I," Grace said, in an appropriately demure and humble tone, as befitted a girl in her position. She sat down nevertheless, leaning forward and doing her best to look awed by the grand environs in which she found herself.

"I have not yet been kind enough for all that you have done," the King replied. "And you do yourself a grave disservice to call yourself a mere poor maid." He tugged at one of his moustaches. "I apologise that my son and daughter-in-law cannot be here, but fright and this business with the poor lieutenant have undone them both."

"I quite understand, your majesty. Your hospitality is all that I require."

The King chuckled. "If I may say, you speak very well for a country shepherdess."

Grace froze for a moment, cursing inwardly. The spell which she had used to steal Vanessa's face had not stolen the girl's country accent too, and Grace had never been any sort of mimic of other men's voices. She smiled, and said, "I was taught by an old religious uncle of mine, your majesty; one who had known courtship in his youth and recalled its manners well."

"Courtship?"

"I fear that in his youth he was not so religious."

The King chuckled again. "You were very brave today, young lady; many would have quailed in the face of doing what you did."

"I did what was right, your majesty; how could I see someone in trouble and do nothing."

"I fear that many would not share your fine sentiments," the King said. "Nevertheless, I owe you a great debt. The princess is a sweet girl with a generous soul, she has touched my heart in the time that I have known her. More to the point she bears me a grandchild in her belly, and if she perished I fear my son would be too stricken with grief to take another wife. You have prevented the extinction of my line."

Grace smiled. "I am only glad that I could be of service, your majesty."

"Your service should be rewarded with more than gratitude," declared the King. "Speak, girl, with what can I reward you for your great service?"

"Merely to be in your radiant presence is reward enough, majesty, for you have in your countenance that which I would call my lord and master," Grace declared. "But, if you would honour me further and beyond my deservings, merely to share a meal with one so great would be so great a delight to me."

For a moment Grace was worried that she'd laid it on a little too think, as the King stared at her; but then he said, "Such a reward would still be far too little to repay my debt, yet it shall be so. And besides, as lunch was so gravely interrupted I am a little peckish!"

A luncheon was prepared and brought to them, and having been so laid out in front of them it was child's play for Grace to slip the potion she had prepared into the King's tea.

She watched him drink with eagle-eyed keenness, with all the eagerness of a vulture watching a dying creature stagger to its last breath, waiting for the moment when it will fall and the feast may begin.

The effects of her potion, brewed as it was to be long-lasting but initially subtle, were not as immediately obvious as those of other love potions. But nevertheless Grace noticed that the King's eyes became just a little unfocussed, and his smile became just a little wider and more foolish seeming."

"Vanessa," he murmured. "What a pretty name."

Grace giggled. "I am glad your majesty thinks so."

"A pretty name," he repeated. "For a very pretty girl, if I may say so."

"Your Majesty may say what he likes, especially when what he says is so pleasant to my poor ears."

"And a pretty tongue, too," the King said. "You are a rare young woman, Vanessa. A rare young woman I would not let slip back into obscurity. May I see you again? I find that I would talk with you some more."

Grace beamed. "I would like that very much, your majesty.


	8. The Rich and the Poor

The Rich and the Poor

It was the middle of the night, and though Drizella yawned with fatigue she did not fall asleep.

She hadn't even gone to bed, although it seemed as though everyone else in this part of the palace had. Instead, she was sat by the door to her inadequately small room - said door being ajar - and waited for Prince Eugene to come by.

He had gone past several hours ago now, escorting Cinderella up to her room. He had to do that because she was too stupid to find the way by herself, and would probably have forgotten where she slept if it hadn't been for Prince Eugene leading the way. But that had been several hours ago and he hadn't come back down since. Drizella knew that because she had been waiting for him to come back down so that she could seduce him, or at least make a start on it. Where was he? How long did it take to say goodnight, especially to Cinderella; Drizella would have thought it was a relief to get away from her, which was certainly how _she_ felt at the end of the day.

And yet Prince Eugene seemed unable to get away, considering that he hadn't come back downstairs yet. Drizella yawned. At this rate she was going to be too tired to be at her best when the time came.

Whatever her best really was. With no one around and, more importantly, no mother to overhear her, Drizella could confess to herself that she was nervous about this. It was all very well for mother to say that the prince would be looking for a mistress and that Drizella should make sure that she was it, but that wasn't much help for Drizella in actually becoming said mistress. She'd never seduced anybody in her life before. She'd wanted to, just as she wanted to do so now, but that didn't mean she knew how. So there was a part of her, a very small part, that was glad Prince Eugene hadn't come down yet for all that she didn't understand why, because it meant that she could think about what she was going to do when he did.

Perhaps she should simply throw herself on him and trust that he'd know what to do next? He was a very experienced man, after all.

On the other hand if he wasn't expecting it he might not take it well. Drizella didn't want to scare him off. Perhaps she should be subtle.

 _Oh, your highness, you must be very lonely at nights nowadays...sleeping alone. Perhaps there's something I could to help with that?_

Perhaps she should have gone to his room while he wasn't there and lain in wait for him, then when he (finally) got there he would have found her posed seductively on the bed. Provided she could work out what a seductive pose was.

 _Forgive me, your highness, I...seem to have gotten lost. And then this bed was so comfortable...and wide._

Or maybe she should be blunt and ask him if he'd found a suitable mistress yet?

Or perhaps, instead, she should wait until she got to sit down to dinner with him and then play footsie beneath the table to let him know what she was about.

Drizella felt as though she had a plethora of choices laid out before her and no way of knowing which was the best one. Not that it mattered if Prince Eugene never came down the stairs. What was he doing, and what was taking him so long?

* * *

 _The bear charged at Cinderella with fangs red and eyes to match._

 _No one stood between Cinderella and the beast, no one stepped forward to protect her or Philippe. She tried to pull her foot free but it was stuck fast, stuck in the tangle of roots that seemed to grow tighter and more painful all the time._

 _The bear bore down upon her. Cinderella opened her mouth to scream-_

She awoke with a gasp and a shudder, her eyes snapping open to the darkness of her bedroom, her senses returning to the feel of Eugene's arms around her waist.

"Another nightmare?" he asked, a voice emerging out of the dark. Cinderella could feel Eugene's body beneath her, the hair on his chest, even his erection against her leg, but she couldn't see his face. It was too dark for that.

Cinderella turned her head and rested her cheek upon his chest. "Yes," she whispered. "It's the same one again. Did I wake you? I'm so sorry."

"You wouldn't have to apologise even if you did," Eugene said. "But you didn't."

Though it was not done for them to sleep together during pregnancy that was no reason why they could not sleep together, sharing a bed for as long as Cinderella's condition allowed (and as long as Eugene could bear the sight of her as body swelled up). Cinderella didn't know what she would have done without him, these past few days especially; if she'd been forced to lie alone in this vast bed with only her nightmares and her worries to keep her company...the feel of his chest beneath her, the feel of his arms around her, calmed her, and she felt her fears ebbing away somewhat as she lay upon him.

"Well?" she said, after a little while had passed in silence between them with the only sound their breathing - and Oscar's snoring, like a saw across wood, from the next room; Oscar and Penny didn't sleep in the bedroom when Eugene was there, it would have felt indecent.

"What?" Eugene asked.

"What's bothering you," Cinderella asked softly. "We're both awake, after all."

"Yes, we are," Eugene said, and Cinderella felt his lips upon her forehead. "But you should be resting."

"So should you, at this time of night."

"I don't have to sleep for two."

"No," Cinderella murmured. "You have to sleep for the prince of the nation."

Eugene snorted, as he began to run his finger up and down Cinderella's spine. "I'm worried, about Father."

Cinderella shifted on Eugene's body as though he were a pillow or a mattress on which she could get more comfortable. "About him meeting with Vanessa."

"It's been three days now, tomorrow will be the fourth," Eugene said. "Or perhaps today will be the fourth, depending on what time it is. Three days riding out alone with a wild bear on the loose, for God's sake!"

The men who had set out to hunt the kill the bear had not found it; they had lost its tracks in the forest, although they had recovered Jean's sword, fallen from the beast apparently. It now rested in his room, in the hope that he would be fit to grasp it once again someday. In the meantime, a reward had been posted for the bear's pelt in every nearby village, but so far no one had attempted to claim it. According to learned men it was a hundred years since last a wild bear was seen in Armorique; the best anyone could guess was that it had escaped from a circus or a bear-baiting show; that would explain why it had been so violent.

The thought of the bear that haunted her nightmares and had cast Jean into a limbo between life and death falling upon the aged King, alone and beyond help, made Cinderella shiver. "Have you asked him to take some guards with him."

"He just laughs," Eugene said. "And says that he does not wish to be disturbed while he's calling upon Mademoiselle Vanessa."

"I can understand, but all the same," Cinderella murmured. "Would you like me to talk to him? If I ask him to be careful, he might agree for my sake. Your father has always been very kind to me, and considerate."

"You can try, and more praise to you if you succeed," Eugene said. "I...I just don't understand it."

"I can," Cinderella said softly. "I don't particularly like being followed around by guards myself."

"Not that," Eugene said quickly. "I don't understand why he goes out there in the first place. Riding out, neglecting his duties and all for what? To meet with some shepherdess?"

"A shepherdess who saved my life," Cinderella reminded him. "Who saved Philippe's life, and Jean's life too if it comes to it."

"I know, and I'm not ungrateful," Eugene said. "But she's been thanked and rewarded, why does Father need to see her again? What does he do out there, what can she possibly offer him?"

"Eugene," Cinderella's tone held a hint of mild reproach. "You're in danger of sounding like a snob."

Eugene was silent a moment. "You support what he's doing?"

"I don't know what it is His Majesty is doing," Cinderella said. "He might just be talking to her. He might enjoy her conversation. Is it really so much worse than the prince marrying a servant girl?"

"That's completely different."

"How?" Cinderella asked pointedly.

Eugene kissed her forehead again. "You are a rare treasure, the fairest rose and brightest pearl in Armorique. You are the realm's delight, and there's not another like you to be found."

"You're very sweet," Cinderella murmured. "But you didn't know any of that when we became engaged. Or even when we were married. Whether they are friends, or whether...whether there is something more there, perhaps Mademoiselle Vanessa will astonish us all. We won't know unless we give her a chance, and considering where I came from...I can't not give her a chance."

* * *

The King came down to breakfast the next morning - or maybe it was that morning, but either way - in a fine mood, with a spring in his step and a twinkle in his eye. He hummed to himself as he practically bounded into the dining room with a smile playing upon his features. He kissed Cinderella on the cheek as he bid her good morning, patted Eugene on the shoulder as he greeted him in the same jovial manner, and he laughed for joy as he took his seat at the head of the table.

In any other circumstances Cinderella would have been delighted to see His Majesty so happy, for he had always been kind and considerate towards her, and patient with her foibles and her unfamiliarity with royal life. She remembered how well he had taken it when he had recovered from his stroke and learned of all that she had done during his infirmity. Truly, His Majesty deserved happiness, and even now Cinderella couldn't suppress a slight smile at seeing him this way. It was just...it was now four days since the incident, and Cinderella understood that life must go on, but that didn't stop it seeming slightly inappropriate, maybe even a little indecent, for His Majesty to be so happy when one of His Majesty's brave servants was fighting for his life.

"Good morning, good morning," he said, as he began to pull food off the nearest platters and onto his plate. "And what a fine morning it is. How are you, Cinderella, on this fine day?"

"I feel well, thank you, Your Majesty," Cinderella said, as she too began to serve herself. "My new diet has been very beneficial, it seems."

"Excellent, excellent," the King said. "A healthy mother brings forth a healthy child, as they say." He chuckled, before he favoured her with a slightly apologetic smile. "Not that we'd want anything to happen to you regardless, my dear."

"I understand, your majesty."

Eugene cleared his throat. "Father, do you ride out again today to call upon Mademoiselle Vanessa."

"I do," His Majesty declared. He sighed. "I find her conversation more enlightening and congenial than all the bores of court."

"You ride alone?"

"As I have done, yes," the King said, sounding a little impatient now. "Do you expect me to change my habit for no reason?"

"I think what Eugene is trying to say, your majesty," Cinderella said. "Is that we're...worried might not be the right but we're certainly concerned about you. Your Majesty isn't a young man any more and, well, it's dangerous out there. If it wasn't then we would never have even met Vanessa." Cinderella reached out towards the King with one pale hand. "Please, your majesty, for my sake, please be careful; if something were to happen to you I'd be so upset, and I so want my child to know the one grandparent they have left."

The King reached out to her, and took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze such as Eugene was want to do whenever Cinderella seemed nervous about something. "My dear, I would not frighten you nor worry you unduly for all the wealth of the Caribbean. But I assure you that I am perfectly safe, for Vanessa has assured me of it and I know that she would never lie to me. There is nothing to fear, and nothing to worry about. And there is certainly no need to have a score of Horse Grenadiers eavesdropping upon our conversation."

"Very well, your majesty," Cinderella murmured. "You know best, I'm sure." She glanced at Eugene, looking slightly apologetic, but he didn't look displeased. Perhaps he hadn't expected anything more from her in this. Nor did he make any mention of the idea that his father should not be visiting Vanessa at all, either because he had taken Cinderella's words to heart or he simply didn't want to row with his father about it.

Instead, it was His Majesty the King who spoke again after several mouthfuls had passed down his throat. "Eugene, my boy, as I will be with Mademoiselle Vanessa all afternoon I must ask you to chair the meeting of the Privy Council upon my behalf. It starts at half-past two, you've already been looking at most of the issues, everything you need to know is in the red box."

Eugene's eyebrows rose. "Chair the...Father, I'm not entirely sure that's proper. In your absence I have no right to take the chair."

"You're on the council," the King replied. "And you're my son and heir, so you'll have to start doing this at some point. Just tell them it's my wish that you sit in for me and I'm sure Sieur Robert will understand."

"Of course, Father, and believe me I'm not blind to what an honour this is...or to what a display of your trust it is too," Eugene said. "But the fact is that is still your responsibility, and I've never known you to shirk your duty before."

"Duty, pah!" the King cried. "Duty is for the young, Eugene; responsibility is a thing for a man of your age to labour under. At my age one should make time to smell the roses."

Eugene bowed his head. "Of course, Father. I'll do my best in your absence."

"Excellent, knew that I could count on you," His Majesty said, and he began to hum again in between taking bites of sausage and toast.

The King was the first to get up from the dining table, leaving the room in as contented a manner as he had entered it, leaving Cinderella and Eugene alone with the rapidly cooling remains of breakfast.

Eugene took a sip from his cup of coffee. The smell was making Cinderella envious of that which was now denied to her, and though she tried to ignore it such scents seemed stronger to her now than they had been before.

Eugene put down the coffee cup. "I really have never known him to miss a council meeting except when he was too ill to attend."

Cinderella gave half a nod of her head. "When you went away, when I offered to help him he refused, he said it was something he had to do himself; it wasn't until...you know. But maybe it changed him, made him realise that he was working too hard. He's already been giving you more to do, why not this."

"Something has changed him but in this case I doubt it's the stroke," Eugene muttered.

"Even if it is...whatever it is that he feels towards Vanessa, would that be so terrible?" Cinderella asked. "Do you not want to do this badly."

"This isn't about the council meeting," Eugene insisted. "This is about...but this isn't like him, and it bothers me. Doesn't it bother you?"

"I don't know His Majesty as well as you do," Cinderella replied. "And I'm just glad to see that he's happy, even if it is at a time like this."

"At a time like this indeed, he hasn't mentioned young Taurillion once since that day," Eugene said. He drummed his fingers on the table. "Still, I suppose that there's nothing I can do about it, although if it continues...I should probably focus on things closer to hand. Will you attend the council meeting with me?"

"Really?"

Eugene nodded. "Unlike me, you've actually chaired it before. Of the two of us you're actually more experienced in this area." He reached for her across the table, placing his hand on top of hers. "And you have good ideas, ideas that should be heard. I need your help."

"But am I allowed, I mean I'm not the Princess Regent any more and I'm not-"

"Perhaps not, but we can take care of that quite easily," Eugene said.

"Will your father-"

"If Father didn't want me to do things my way he should have chaired the meeting himself instead of gallivanting off," Eugene declared. "But, if you don't want to, I'll understand. I'm not trying to force you to do anything."

"No, it isn't that at all," Cinderella said quickly, before he got the wrong idea. "I...it's just that I wasn't sure that..." She trailed off, and for a moment as she looked into Eugene's eyes Cinderella was rendered speechless. Whoever would have thought, when Eugene had chosen her for looks alone to be his wife, when he had kept her ignorant and shunted aside from all royal business, when he had kept secrets from her and grown angry at her for prying; who would have thought that the day would come when he would invite her to sit beside him on the Privy Council and lend her voices to the deliberations of the country because he valued her ideas and needed her help. It took her breath away.

 _Does Eugene realise that he's just given me a gift more precious than a thousand diamond bracelets?_ Cinderella wondered.

"I'd love to," she whispered.

"I hoped you would," Eugene said. He started to get up from his chair. "Will you join me in the study, I want to go over everything so that we're well prepared for whatever might come at us."

"I'll join you in just a little while," Cinderella said. "I need to go to the chapel first."

"Of course," Eugene said. "I'll be waiting."

Every morning, after breakfast, Cinderella prayed for Jean's recovery in the palace chapel. Angelique, on the other hand, thought that God might be nearer to the grand Cathedral of St Benedict in the centre of the city, and so each morning she took a royal coach and spent a couple of hours there.

Almost all of the rest of her time was spent at Jean's bedside. Cinderella didn't begrudge her that, how could she?

As for Jean, he had become feverish, and Cinderella wasn't allowed into the room for the baby's sake if nothing else. When she mustered the courage to ask Angelique how he was doing, she would say that he seemed neither better nor worse. Cinderella wondered how long that could go on for.

So Cinderella's steps carried her to the little chapel in the east wing of the palace, and knelt near the back though there was no one else there but her and the King's chaplain lighting candles near the altar. Cinderella bowed her head, and clasped her hands together, and prayed for the life of her friend.

After her prayers, and whatever good they might be doing Jean, Cinderella joined Eugene in the study where he preferred to work, with the table set before the window with a lavish view of the garden beyond. Eugene stood up when she came in and pulled out a chair for her, pushing it back in when she was seated.

As she smoothed out her skirt with both hands, Cinderella looked at the great mass of official documents spilling out of the red box and all over the table. "Goodness, there's so much here," she said.

"Mm, and I thought Father had been giving us a lot to work with," Eugene said. "I'm afraid we have a lot of work to do before the meeting."

"Well, I'm sorry if I kept you waiting," Cinderella said. "But I'm here now, so why don't we get started?"

Eugene picked up a couple of sheets of paper. "The first item on the agenda is this issue with the Hispaniola landowners again. Sieur Robert is worried that if we don't come up with an idea the Assembly is going to start making its own suggestions."

"But only the King can propose laws."

"True, but if we don't have any ideas of our own on the subject it won't look too good if we ignore the ideas that the Representatives have in favour of less-than-masterful inactivity," Eugene said. "And Sieur Robert doesn't think he'll be able to hold them back."

Cinderella pursed her lips together. She was aware that she had probably made life much more difficult for Armorique's Premier than it would have been otherwise; in her determination to repeal the duties on grain she had forced him to do something which a great part of his own party were against, and which he had only accomplished with the support of the opposition. She didn't regret what she had done - she had done what she thought was right at the time, and she still thought that it was right now - but she was sorry for the trouble that it had caused him.

 _Although I hope I'm not the only one who feels a little sorry._ Sieur Robert wouldn't be in this position if Lord Roux, after hemming and hawing for some weeks, had not declined to form a government and carry the business.

"I see," Cinderella murmured. "So what are we going to do? Or...I don't know, what should we do?"

Eugene dropped the papers onto the desk. "That is the question, isn't it? What to do."

"You don't sound as though you have a plan."

"Am I that obvious?" Eugene asked. He sighed. "Normandie won't pay, and they don't want us to pay either. Neither, come to that, do a great many of our own people, while an equally great number do."

Cinderella put her hands on the desk, one resting upon the other. "What do you want to do?"

Eugene looked at her. "Does that matter? Politics isn't about getting what we want?"

"Perhaps not," Cinderella said. "But I don't see why it shouldn't be a part of it, as long as what we want isn't simply selfish, or cruel to others." Cinderella furrowed her brow. "It feels wrong, to me, to force these people to stay when they don't want to, under a king that they don't want, part of a country they don't want to be a part of. It doesn't seem right."

Eugene made a noise that was somewhere between a snort and a laugh.

Cinderella looked up at him. "What's so funny?"

"I'm afraid you just described the justification of our lately rebellious colonists, darling," Eugene observed.

Cinderella looked down at her hands. "Yes, well...if you weren't my husband I...I probably would have been on their side."

Eugene tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him once more. "I thought as much," he said. "Which is why I offered lenient terms that tried to somewhat redress their grievances. Because I thought it was what you would approve of." He took his fingers away from her chin. "Not that that helps us here, of course there's nothing to prevent them from leaving, they'll just leave deprived of their illiquid assets."

"And they can't sell them, can they?" Cinderella asked. She had read up to try and understand why that was. "Because everyone knows that they have to sell, and so no one will offer a fair price."

"Precisely," Eugene said. "Hence the demands for compensation."

Cinderella nodded. "What if...what if they didn't have to leave right away?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, at the moment when the Normans take over the island, then everyone who's still there becomes Norman," Cinderella said. "But what if they didn't; or, what if they could come to Armorique afterwards, if they found they really didn't like Norman rule. Wouldn't that make it easier for them to sell their land at the right price? People wouldn't be able to wait for the price to drop."

"A right of return," Eugene mused. "That...yes, that might work. We'd need to consult the Normans on it and get their agreement; unfortunately they might well demand some sort of time limit, which only shunts the problem down the road. But as an idea it definitely has merit. You should tell the council about it this afternoon, it might be enough to keep them quiet on the subject for a little longer."

"Me?" Cinderella asked. "You want me to talk about this?"

"If you're going to sit on the council there's no sense in me taking credit for all of your ideas," Eugene said with a smile which swiftly faded, probably due to what he saw on Cinderella's face. "Is something wrong, my dear?"

Cinderella ran one finger across the wooden surface of the desk, feeling the rising and falling contours underneath her fingertip. She looked down for a moment, and even when she looked back up again she could not quite meet Eugene's eyes. "I'm flattered that you want me to join the council, really I am; that you trust me, value me like this...I don't think I can tell you how much it means to me. And I want to join, I want to help as much as I can, but...the councillors, they don't like me very much." Relations during Cinderella's regency had never been entirely cordial, and had cooled rapidly as said regency wore on as Cinderella's determination to go her own way, and Serena's smear campaign against her reputation, had both taken their toll. Matters had probably reached their nadir when one of the councillors had accused Cinderella of sleeping her way through the palace to her face, and Cinderella had responded by throwing them all out of the palace. Cinderella hadn't met them since, and the more she thought about it the less the reunion seemed like something to look forward to.

Eugene, on the other hand, seemed unfazed by her concerns. "I don't care," he said. "You're my wife, you're my princess and you're the best woman I know, and I don't see any reason to pretend otherwise."

"But they might reject things that I say just because I said them," Cinderella said.

"I'd hope that our Privy Councillors could behave better than petulant children," Eugene said. "I have to say I'm a little surprised. You seem to have gotten so much better at ignoring the opinions of others, not letting it grind you down."

Cinderella shook her head. "There's a difference between realising that you're not going to cast me out of your life because I haven't worn my hair in the style you like best, or learning to ignore some old duchess when she sneers at the kind of dress I like, and being afraid that people will ignore my policies just because they're mine."

"They won't," Eugene insisted. "We won't let them. Cinderella, we can't pander to people who'd rather believe old lies from a defunct newspaper than see what a wonder you are. Or if we can...we shouldn't." He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. "You've spent so long trapped in the dark, don't you want to step out and be heard?"

"Yes," Cinderella whispered. "But more than that I want what's best for everyone."

"What about what's best for you?" Eugene asked. He frowned, and took his hand away. "Having said that I've just remembered that what is best for you is you making up your own mind, not being forced into things by me. As I said before, I'm not going to force you into things that you don't like. You must do what you think is best."

Cinderella leaned back in her chair. _What I think is best._ What was that? What did she think was best? That was not the same question as what she wanted, which was to speak and to be listened to with politeness, if nothing else. But was that the best thing? What if good ideas were cast aside simply because they fell from her lips? What if her voice poisoned promising notions? What if the animus against her were so great as to overcome every other consideration?

Did she want to become such a millstone? No. But then...what was she doing here? What was she doing talking about weighty matters with Eugene, and proposing ideas? If she really thought that it was for the best that no one learned that any idea had come from her, then the only thing to do would be to have no ideas for fear that any idea she did have would be traced back to her with every negative consequence she could imagine. She should leave this room at once and hide herself away in her room and devote herself thereafter to inconsequential chatter with her ladies-in-waiting.

And Cinderella found she was not willing to do that.

"I'll speak," Cinderella said. "I'll speak and I won't...I mean, I'll try not to be ashamed of myself."

Eugene nodded. "I'll be right beside you when you do."

"I know," Cinderella said softly. "Do you think...if I left at once I should have time to speak to Frederica about this, shouldn't I?"

"Perhaps," Eugene allowed. "But then I'd be without your help going through all the rest of this. Speak to her tomorrow."

"Alright," Cinderella said. "What's next?"

"Something I doubt you'll like too much," Eugene admitted, picking up some more papers. "It's the squeeze on Outdoor Relief that you rejected during your regency."

"I see," Cinderella said, softly but with unmistakable disapproval in her voice. "I suppose they were hoping His Majesty would be the one to look at it this time."

"This time it comes accompanied by a whole battery of economic arguments about expenditure and income," Eugene observed. "And..."

Cinderella waited for him to continue, and when he did not she prompted him. "And what?"

Eugene looked apologetic. "I find it hard to see what you find so objectionable about the workhouse. It seems like a perfectly reasonable proposal to me."

"If Angelique were not pre-occupied with Jean I'd ask her to join us so that she could tell you all about the workhouse and what a horrible place it is," Cinderella said. "But since it is, please take my word for it Eugene that no one should be forced to live like that."

"I've been to a workhouse," Eugene said. "I was shown around the one in this city a few years ago. It looks dismal I'll admit, but it's not bad. Far from it, really. The residents all had clean clothes to wear; and they had roast pork for dinner with plum pudding for afters. I saw them tucking into it. There are working families who don't eat so well."

Cinderella sighed. "When I was a girl," she said. "When I was ten until...I think I was fourteen or maybe fifteen when my stepmother stopped caring...when I was a girl my stepmother kept a very special dress in her wardrobe. It was my dress, my only dress, it was almost a magical dress to me. It was blue, and ever so lovely, with bows on the side and lace petticoats and pouffy sleeves; and when I wore that dress I got to wear a blue ribbon in my hair that my father had gotten for me, with little bells on that rang as I walked, and rang even more merrily as I skipped. And whenever my stepmother had guests home for dinner, or even for tea, then I would get to wear my magical dress and the bells in my hair, and I'd get to eat at the dining table with my family and join everyone in the sitting room and play; and then as soon as the guests were gone I had to take my dress straight off again."

"Because your stepmother didn't want anyone to know how she was really treating you," Eugene murmured.

Cinderella nodded wordlessly. The charades had stopped when she was...she was almost sure now it had been when she was fifteen, although it could have been fourteen. When she was old enough, or looked old enough that no one would question that she was the maid or find it odd that she was dressed in rags and waiting on the others. Had any of Lady Tremaine's friends ever wondered what had become of her stepdaughter? Had any of them cared? Perhaps they thought she was dead, and didn't notice that the new maid shared a name and features with the deceased girl. Perhaps they realy just didn't care.

"I understand what you're suggesting," Eugene said. "And I don't wish to accuse Angelique of lying, but...my instinct would be to give this my support."

"Why?" Cinderella demanded. "A lot of the poor people who'll be affected by this will be your soldiers, men who fought with you in America and were wounded badly. And others...just people who'd had some terrible luck. They don't deserve to be put in prison for that."

"No, they don't," Eugene said. "Nor do they deserve to be sleeping rough in the parks and streets of Armorique's cities. Angelique may have preferred a life of hand-to-mouth vagrancy over the workhouse but that doesn't mean that everyone feels the same way. At least in the workhouse they have a roof over their head and meals guaranteed, even if it isn't roast pork and plum pudding."

"And if someone had said that to me before we might not be here now," Cinderella said. "But they didn't, they only wanted to talk about money, and that makes me doubt that any good is meant for the poor."

"Maybe none is meant," Eugene replied. "But that doesn't mean that none is done. And...the fact of the matter is we do have to think about the cost, even if you'd rather not. We can't afford to build a house for every citizen, and I'm not even sure we should."

Cinderella frowned. "I...perhaps you're right, perhaps they're all right and I'm wrong, but I'm not sure; and because I'm not sure...does this have to be decided now? People...they trust me. They came to the palace to help me when I needed help most and it seemed like I had no one to turn to. They saved me from Serena and Grace. I can't betray that, or them. Not until I'm sure that it's the right thing to do."

Eugene looked at her for a moment. "You realise that, even if I throw this out and say that the time is not yet right, the next time Father decides to actually chair a session this will go back to him and he'll probably put his name to it."

"Then I suppose I'll have to work quickly to find out the truth, and persuade him of it," Cinderella said. "And you, too, for that matter."

Cinderella and Eugene did not agree on absolutely everything, but as they worked together through the contents of the red box they were able to come to some sort of position on almost everything, even if that position was to put it to one side like the contentious cuts on Outdoor Relief. They never quarrelled, but neither of them was afraid to say what they really thought, a fact that - when they stopped for lunch just before one o'clock - somewhat amazed Cinderella when she stopped to think about it.

"What's that look on your face?" Eugene asked. "You looked a little dazed, are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Cinderella said quickly. "I'm just...I was thinking of how only a few months ago I would have been terrified of saying things like that to you, for fear of what you'd do if I upset you, or didn't play the perfect wife that you wanted."

"You are the perfect wife I want," Eugene said. "I just didn't realise it at first."

Cinderella bowed her head before she started to blush. "You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do," Eugene agreed. "You've blossomed."

"Only because you gave me room to grow," Cinderella said. "Thank you."

During lunch, the discussion moved away from public policy and onto other more casual matters. Eugene suggested a play that Cinderella might enjoy, and they talked about when they might go and see it. Cinderella attempted to persuade Eugene of the merits of _Mysteries of Udolpho_ , a charming read that Augustina had recommended to her and Cinderella had just begun to read.

And then, with lunch over and little less than an hour until the council session, Cinderella went to her room to change and, while there, shared with her ladies-in-waiting some of her misgivings about the cuts to the Outdoor Relief.

"I honestly don't think it matters, your highness," said Christine calmly. "Sieur Robert's government will be out of office before the first of April, and this law will be unlikely to even begin its journey through the Assembly."

Augustina, sitting on Cinderella's bed while Duchamp helped Cinderella herself get dressed, folded her arms. "You seem remarkably sure of that. The Corn Laws may have wounded the government but it has staggered on thus far, and with victory in the American War-"

"Victory in the American War hasn't stopped the brute vote from feeling any less betrayed by their leader, Mademoiselle de Bois," Christine declared. "And Sieur Robert is a fool if he thinks that they will either forget or forgive. If he wished to preserve the government he would have resigned as soon as he had carried repeal and made way for another man to heal the wounds in the party. But, since he will not go, he will be forced out and those he has offended most will have their revenge."

"Don't you think your being a little melodramatic?" Augustina asked.

"I might suggest that you, Mademoiselle, are attributing your own generosity of spirit to others," Christine said. "You have forgiven the princess, or forgotten the offence I know not which, but not all are so kind." Christine glanced at Cinderella. "Or else Sieur Robert does not inspire the same affection that her highness does."

"What makes you think the government is going to fall, Lady Christine?" Cinderella asked, looking over her shoulder to see Christine where she stood as still as an alabaster statue near the sitting room door.

"My uncle tells me he can still feel their anger in the chamber," Christine replied. "It will have release, he says; and, although for the moment the opposition has voted with the government in several issues in the public interest, the moment the opportunity to defeat the government on an issue that will not play poorly for them in the press arises they will take it, and that will be that."

"And then your uncle will become Premier," Augustina observed.

Christine's face was expressionless. "Yes. Obviously."

"Well, I don't see why you even want to bother with all of this," Drizella declared. "It sounds awfully dull to me."

"Her highness is a great friend to the common people," Marinette said. "They support her-"

"Oh, well why didn't you tell you were doing it to be admired, Cinderella?"

"That wasn't quite what I meant," Marinette murmured.

"I get involved because it's the right thing to do, Drizella," Cinderella explained. "I have so much now, so many wonderful things…how could I justify that if I didn't help those who had less than I do?"

"Noblesse oblige," Augustina said. "You've just perfectly encapsulated why you're natural home is with our traditionalist party and not with the coalition of chaos over there." She waved one hand dismissively in Christine's direction.

Christine stuck her nose in the air. "It seems to me that her highness' would be better served by a party which thinks about the problems facing the nation and how they can be solved than by a brute vote of country squires who know nothing but the prayer-book and the price of grain."

"I would rather have a ruddy-faced squire who knows his God and his land and loves them both," Augustina declared proudly. "Than an over-proud cloth-merchant who knows only his profit ledger or a pinch-cheeked school-master with a head full of every fact and nothing at all in his heart."

"Ladies, please don't fight," Cinderella said. "I'm sure that you both want the best for Armorique, and for me."

"Of course, your highness, we are your loyal servants," Christine said.

Cinderella finished getting ready, and made her way downstairs. She met Angelique coming the other way.

"How's Jean?" Cinderella asked.

"No better and no worse, as far as I can tell," Angelique replied. She frowned. "I hear that Prince Eugene is going to put you on the Privy Council. Congratulations. Really. You deserve it."

"Thank you," Cinderella said. "I…I just wish that there was something that I could do for you."

"There is," Angelique said. "Win. Help those who need it most, and show everyone who ever doubted it just how great you are. Change the world. Justify Jean's faith in you. Justify his…sacrifice."

Cinderella tightened her grip on the banister. "I will, I give you my word…or at least I'll try my hardest, I guarantee it."

"That's all I can ask," Angelique said. A smile briefly crossed her face. "Although, of course you would have done that anyway, wouldn't you?"

"I'd like to think so," Cinderella replied.

Cinderella made her way to the council chamber, where Eugene was waiting for her outside.

"Everyone's waiting for us," he said. He held out one hand to her. "Are you ready?"

Cinderella was a little nervous, in truth, but she placed her fingers gently into his open palm and said, "Yes."

His hand closed around hers as he nodded, and the servant at the door flung it open.

They walked into the room together, hand in hand. The councillors – Cinderella noticed that Sieur Robert looked a little more worn and ashen-faced than when she had seen him last, which suggested there might be some truth in what Christine said – rose to their feet for them even as they looked surprised to see either of them, let alone both.

"Your Highness," Sieur Robert said evenly as the prince and princess walked towards the long table. "Both your highnesses, in fact; what an unexpected surprise to see you, Princess Cinderella. Is His Majesty delayed?"

"The King is indisposed," Eugene said, letting go of Cinderella's hand as he pulled out a chair for her. "He has asked me to chair this session in his stead."

"Is His Majesty ill?"

"He is indisposed," Eugene repeated carefully.

Sieur Robert frowned. Cinderella wondered how much, if anything, he knew about Vanessa and the King's daily rides out to meet with her; whatever he knew, he kept it to himself and said nothing on the matter. Instead, his glance turned towards Cinderella. "And…your highness, to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I'm glad you asked," Eugene said, as he took his seat; everyone else – Cinderella included – who had been standing out of respect for him did likewise. "The first order of business, if you will permit us to set all else back for a moment, is that I would like to nominate my wife, Princess Cinderella, to the Privy Council."

Silence reigned amongst the councillors for a moment, amongst all the lords and ministers in their frock coats of melancholy black and sombre grey.

Sieur Robert leaned forwards and cleared his throat. "Your Highness, that is…somewhat irregular."

"Perhaps, but I happen to believe it is an excellent idea," Eugene said. "After all, her highness, has already chaired this council to some success, served as regent of the country and she has a great many ideas of great value to Armorique. I see no reason she should not be able to express those ideas here."

Sieur Robert was silent a moment, and the whole rest of the council was silent with him. And then he seemed to almost smirk, and said, "Your highness is quite right, of course; princess, you did an excellent job at governing this country in the infirmity of His Majesty and the absence of your husband. Your interventions into the political world were…seismic. I have no doubt that any future Premier who might follow in my footsteps will never want for good and moral advice from you. I welcome this excellent notion from his highness."

"Are there any objections?" Eugene asked, glaring down the table in such a way as to suggest that there had better not be any objections.

Under his gaze there was some shuffling around, and a few sceptical or hostile looks sent Cinderella's way which she did her best to ignore, but no one gave voice to any issues with her presence.

"All in favour, say aye," Eugene said, and most of the table chorused 'aye' even if some didn't sound too enthusiastic about it. No one voice for nay, although a few abstained.

"Carried," Eugene declared. "Welcome to the Privy Council, Princess Cinderella."

Cinderella nodded. "Thank you all. I promise to do my best for Armorique, always."

"Excellent," Eugene said. "Now, let's begin."


	9. The Storm

_Darkmaster of the Arts – Yes, Cinderella is now on the council for good._

The Storm

Henry rustled his morning newspaper aggressively.

Anne couldn't see her husband's face. In fact she couldn't see him at all, aside from his fingers where he gripped the paper – the _Courier_ had gone out of business during their Italian sojourn, something for which Princess Cinderella could apparently claim some share of credit, so now Henry read the _Daily Post_ – hard enough to make its pages crinkle. The rest of him was wholly concealed behind the broad sheets of the newspaper, which he rustled aggressively enough to let him know that he was upset about something he'd read.

She nibbled at the edge of a croissant. "Is something wrong, dearest?"

"Ridiculous!" Henry spat. "Absolutely ridiculous. That woman – _that woman_ – has been made a member of the Privy Council!"

Anne didn't need to ask who that woman was. There was only one woman who infuriated her husband enough that he refused to speak her name out of spite. _Princess Cinderella is on the Privy Council?_ For a moment Anne was glad that, just as she could not see Henry, he could not see her either. He couldn't see how green with envy she must have looked at that moment as she imagined the princess seated around the council table, engaging in heated debates over great issues, with the fate of the nation at stake.

 _I wonder if she is conscious of the great honour that is done to her, or whether she feels it is a step down from being regent of the country?_ Of course, she had chaired the council then. Merely being on it might seem a letdown by comparison.

 _If she does feel that way I shall be very disappointed in her._ It would mean that Cinderella was ignorant of the rare chance she had, the chance that Anne herself would give an arm for.

Anne's brow furrowed, for all that Henry could not see the gesture. "I am a little surprised the King would do such a thing."

"It wasn't even the bloody King!" Henry yelled from the other side of the newspaper. He folded it up so that he could see how red his face was. "It was Eugene, the fool, who stuck his own wife upon the council for heaven's sake!"

 _Oh, Cinderella, you lucky, lucky girl. Do you even realise how lucky you are?_ To have a husband who not only loved her but respected her, who so valued her that he was willing to do such a thing…oh, yes, what a lucky girl indeed Cinderella was.

All the same, something didn't entirely add up about this. "Does the paper report what the King had to say about this?"

"It doesn't report that the King had anything to say, and I find myself able to believe that," Henry declared. "It appears that he is besotted with some shepherd girl. It appears that a taste for common fruit runs in that side of the family."

"So he did not attend the council?"

"He spent all day out in the country, alone, with this peasant girl," Henry said. "This other peasant girl, I should say, while the first peasant was sitting in the council chamber having ideas, speaking her mind-"

 _You say those things as if they were so unspeakably awful that no good could come from them,_ Anne thought. _Or is it simply that they can do no good when garbed in female form?_

"And rejecting necessary legislation to keep down the costs of the work-shy and the idle which burden all self-respecting and hard working folk."

 _I'm not sure that we really have much room to talk about work-shyness,_ Anne thought dryly. But, the irony of an aristocrat who had inherited everything from his father complaining about supporting the unemployed and impoverished aside, it was worrying if Cinderella had begun to meddle in the affairs of government again.

 _I envy her and I fear her at the same time._ Cinderella had such opportunities handed to her, but she did not seem capable of using them with any wisdom or restraint. If she continued to push matters in that way then someone would start to push back, and that could spell disaster.

Society was, at present, finely balanced between the simmering discontents of the poor, the barely restrained ambitions of the middle and the embattled resentment of the high. If Cinderella upset that balance, then however well-meaning her actions were she might be surprised at just how much came crashing down around her, even the monarchy and her own position within it.

 _And the futures of my children, too._ Of course, there was just as great a risk to Anne's children in the potential reaction of their father to this news.

"What do you intend to do, husband?" she asked quietly.

Henry snorted. "I don't know yet. But something must be done. These people, my uncle, my cousin…they have proven themselves unworthy of the throne."

* * *

The carriage rolled to a halt outside _The Florentine Boutique_ , where a discreetly placed by very noticeable sign in the window proclaimed _By Royal Appointment, Dressmaker to Her Highness Princess Cinderella_ and another sign on the door proclaimed _CLOSED_.

"Back to the grindstone?" Etienne asked, as he leapt down from the carriage and held out his hands to Lucrecia.

"I managed to get all of my extant commissions out of the way before we left," Lucrecia said, as she allowed him to help her down out of the coach. "I could hardly do otherwise, really. My clients are not the sort of people who appreciate me leaving their dresses unfinished while I went on my honeymoon."

"I don't know, I think her highness would be quite understanding about such things."

"The princess is an exception," Lucrecia remarked, as she fished the key to the front door out of her purse and unlocked the shop. "I don't think most ladies would be so understanding."

Etienne could believe that. There were very few ladies at court who were so generous in spirit as Princess Cinderella. "Does it bother you?"

"Of course not," Lucrecia said, pushing the door open. "I could never allow myself to be spoiled by the exceptional temperament of one client, even if she is my favourite." She chuckled. "Give her highness my regards, won't you? And tell her I'm very sorry for the trouble she had."

"I will, and I'm sure she'll be happy to hear it," Etienne said. "Will you be alright here? I'm sorry I have to take my leave so suddenly, but-"

"I understand, duty calls."

"It's my first day on the job, I can hardly be late," Etienne replied. "And I need to call at the palace first."

"To speak to His Highness?"

"No, not this time," Etienne said. "There are a couple of other people who I need to see. I'll be back in time to walk you home this evening."

"You don't have to."

"Maybe not, but what's the good of being married if I can't?" Etienne asked. He leaned forward and kissed her goodbye. "Have a good day."

"And you."

Etienne dismissed the hired coach that had brought them home from their honeymoon, and walked the rest of the way up to the palace. He had put on his uniform before returning to the capital so that he could head directly there, and the guards upon the gate saluted him as he passed through.

As he walked up the path towards the gate Etienne had to scramble out of the way of His Majesty the King, who rode his horse at a brisk trot towards the gate, seemingly without a care of whatever or whoever might be in his way.

 _Or perhaps he simply trusted that I'd have enough sense to get out of the path of his horse._ It was a lot easier to move a man than to urge a steed around him, after all, especially a horse like His Majesty's tall, iron grey charger. Once he had moved to a safe distance out of the King's path, Etienne stood to attention and saluted as His Majesty passed by.

The King did not respond. He didn't return the salute, he didn't even look at Etienne, not even so much as to glance in his direction. He rode on, and out the gate, his eyes fixed ahead of him.

 _I didn't think that he disliked me that much,_ Etienne thought wryly, as he held the salute for a few moments before lowering his hand down to his side. Technically you were supposed to wait until it was returned, but His Majesty had not returned it and Etienne wasn't going to stand here like a fool for however many hours he would be gone just on a point of minor protocol.

 _I wonder where he was going. Clearly it was somewhere important or he wouldn't have been in such single-minded haste. If I have time I may ask Eugene about it, it would be good to know if something's going on that may affect my duties._

 _If it will affect my duties I'm sure I'll here about it when I report to the commander._

It occurred to Etienne that it might have been useful for him to have picked up a newspaper before he came here, but he and Lucrecia had left early and he hadn't wanted to dawdle about before he came here. As a consequence, however, he was somewhat ignorant of any events that may have transpired over the last day.

He made his way up the path, and saw that a carriage was waiting outside the steps leading down from the palace, with the driver and the footmen and guards already waiting. It could have been Eugene for whom they were waiting, although Eugene would probably prefer to ride if he was alone, which made Etienne suspect the coach was either for Cinderella or for Eugene and Cinderella both.

His suspicion was confirmed when he saw Cinderella, unmistakable in one of her signature white gowns, emerge from the palace doors and slowly descend the steps down towards her waiting coach.

"Your Highness!" Etienne called out to her, waving one hand as he quickened his pace a little.

Cinderella waved back, and politely waited just a few steps from the base for him to approach her. "General Gerard, you're back already."

"I am, ma'am," Etienne said, bowing his head to her. "We just returned this morning. Lucrecia sends her regards, and her sympathies on the recent unpleasantness. We both do."

"Oh, please tell Lucrecia that's very sweet of her, of both of you," Cinderella said. "Did you have a nice time?"

Etienne smiled. "Indeed, ma'am, being alone together was quite delightful."

"I can imagine," Cinderella sighed. "I have friends here of course, and important work, but…there are times when I remember my honeymoon, how it was just Eugene and I and…it was so wonderful."

"And yet if it lasted, ma'am, I fear the magic would go out of it," Etienne said.

"Yes, we wouldn't want that, would we?" Cinderella said. "Are you here to see Eugene?"

"Not today, ma'am, I thought I might check in on Jean, and Philippe."

Cinderella pursed her lips together. "Jean is…I'm not entirely sure how he is, but I'm sure he's in much position to appreciate your visit. Although…if he gets better he'll surely appreciate that you did. As for Philippe though, that would be very kind. He's been so upset ever since that awful day…I'm not sure what to do. I hope you can help him."

"I shall certainly try, ma'am," Etienne said. "Princess, if you don't mind me asking, where was His Majesty going just now, and in such haste? It's probably none of my business but-"

"But I'm sure you'll find out eventually, Eugene will tell you if no one else does," Cinderella said. "How much do you know about what happened a few days ago now? When Jean was injured?"

"What I read in the newspaper," Etienne said. "I'm sorry that I didn't come back-"

"Oh, no, I would never suggest that you have should have, and neither would anyone else," Cinderella said quickly. "It was all over and done with, there was nothing you could have done and no reason to ruin your honeymoon for our sake. But there was a shepherdess, named Vanessa. She saved my life, and Philippe as well. His Majesty…he has become quite taken with her."

"Taken?"

"He rides out to meet with her every day, and stays with her for most of the day," Cinderella said. "He goes alone, so no one knows what they do except him, and he doesn't say. I'm surprised you didn't read about that in the newspapers, the _Daily Post_ has started to become a little unkind about it, and even the _Gazette_ finds it strange."

"We didn't get a paper today, which is starting to seem like an oversight," Etienne remarked. "And now, I mustn't keep you, princess. You were about to go, I wouldn't want to delay you from an appointment."

"I was just on my way to visit Frederica, Princess Frederica I mean," Cinderella said. "I suppose I should be going. It was lovely to see you again, general. We must talk again soon. Give my love to Lucrecia won't you?"

"Of course, ma'am," Etienne said. He bowed his head as Cinderella climbed into the waiting carriage, and waited until the coach had started to move before he climbed the steps to the palace.

He headed first for Philippe's bedroom and nursery, because it was still early enough in the morning that Philippe would likely be there and not anywhere else. Indeed, when Etienne arrived at the room, halfway up the King's Tower as it was, he found that his instinct had been the correct one and Philippe was there, sitting somewhat morosely on the floor.

He looked up as Etienne knocked on the door.

"Uncle Etienne?" Philippe asked in surprise.

"Indeed," Etienne said as he walked in. "Where's your grandmother?"

"Getting dressed."

"I see," Etienne said, as he crossed the room and sat down on the bed. "Come, sit down."

Philippe got up, and walked over to the bed. Etienne picked him up and set him down on the mattress beside him.

Etienne looked down at the boy. "I heard about what happened."

Philippe looked away. "I don't remember it."

"Don't remember what?"

"Going into the woods," Philippe. "I only remember…stepmother. I don't remember how I got there."

Etienne frowned. Was he lying? To what purpose, if so? Had he simply forgotten? Did he want to forget? But…why forget that, and not forget the actually scary bit? He chose his words carefully. "You remember your stepmother," he said. "Do you remember…do you remember…"

"I remember the bear," Philippe said solemnly. "It was scary. Stepmother, she…it's my fault, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"That man…he's hurt and it's my fault, isn't it?"

Etienne let out a deep breath. "No," he said.

"But if I hadn't gone into the woods-"

"If you hadn't gone into the woods what?" Etienne asked. "You don't remember doing that, so you can't tell me why you did it, but I don't think that you did it because you wanted anyone to follow you in there, and you certainly didn't make your stepmother go after you. You couldn't make anyone go anywhere. Your stepmother chose to follow you into the woods because she was worried about you, because she loves you; Jean Taurillion chose to put himself between you and that bear because he is a brave man, because he is a man who takes his duty to heart and lives to serve. Love your stepmother for who she is; honour Jean for who he is, but don't try and pretend that this is all about you, that it's all your fault, that the choices that other people made don't matter at all. That's arrogance, that's the height of arrogance, and it demeans Jean and your stepmother to treat them that way. Do you understand?"

"Um…not, really."

"I apologise," Etienne muttered. He placed a hand on Philippe's shoulder as he tried to think of a way to rephrase it. "The point is this: the choice you made that put yourself in danger…is far less important than the choices they made to try and save you. Be grateful that there were people willing to make those choices…and maybe be a little more careful in future."

"I'll try. Uncle Etienne?"

"Yes?"

"Is he going to be alright?"

Etienne didn't need to ask who he was. "I don't know. At the moment…I really don't know."

* * *

It was very bad for Cinderella to leave the palace and go amongst the people, even if it was only riding in a carriage through the streets.

It was bad for because the people, who recognised a royal coach and who could see her through the windows, loved her too much and showed their love too greatly. They cheered for her, they called her name, they asked God's blessings on her, they cried out how much they loved her and it was terrible.

It was terrible because it was so sweet. To know that she was loved and appreciated by so many, especially when the affection of the people was set against the indifference or disdain of the court, was so good to know, and so comforting, and so bad for Cinderella. It fed her vanity, and she was far too vain already. The cheering of the crowd affected the same part of her that enjoyed the sight of her own reflection in the mirror, throat sparkling with jewels.

And yet she did nothing about it, she didn't hide herself behind the curtains or even ignore the cheers. No, she waved to everybody, and smiled at every compliment, and even thanked the people once or twice for all of their devotion.

Because she liked it, even if she shouldn't.

 _But what is a People's Princess without the people who support her?_ That was something the _Daily Post_ had called her, the People's Princess; Cinderella had the notion it had been meant as some kind of insult, though she thought it was rather sweet of them to say so. It struck her that there were worse kinds of princess she could have been.

 _I may enjoy the praise and affection that you throw my way,_ Cinderella thought, as she waved out the window. _But I will never take it for granted. I will continue to work for all of you, you have my word._

 _Even if you can't hear it._

The carriage bore Cinderella through the streets – and consequently through the cheers of the people who saw her going by – to the elegant townhouse rented by Princess Frederica of Normandie. Cinderella dismounted with the help of her footman, but the front door was opened even before Cinderella had finished climbing the steps.

"Good morning, Anton," Cinderella said, recognising Frederica's trusted retainer.

"Good morning, your highness."

"If I didn't know better I might think that you knew I was coming," Cinderella said as she walked up the steps.

"The cheers of the populace alerted her highness to the possibility that you might be calling, ma'am," Anton said, as Cinderella walked into the hall and he shut the door behind her.

"I'm sorry if it disturbed you," Cinderella said. "Where is Frederica?"

"In the parlour, if you wouldn't mind following me, ma'am?"

"Of course," Cinderella said, allowing Anton to lead her down the nearest corridor of the house. She found Frederica seated on a green armchair, perched on the edge of it like a bird that was about to fly away, reading something. She set it down immediately that Cinderella appeared in the doorway, looking up with a delighted smile on her face even before Anton had announced her.

"Cinderella! I thought it would probably be you when I heard the passionate cries of your supporters outside."

Cinderella chuckled as she felt her cheeks warm up a little embarrassment. "Yes, I'm sorry about that. Did it-"

"Oh, don't apologise for goodness' sake," Frederica cried. "Do you know how many kings and princes would give their left arms to inspire that kind of devotion from their subjects?" She crossed the room to take Cinderella by the arms. "You look very well, and as lovely as ever. How do you feel?"

"Quite well, thank you," Cinderella replied. Actually, her vomiting had been a little worse this morning, but there was no need for Frederica to know that.

"Excellent, but we mustn't keep you on our feet a moment longer than necessary. Come, come, sit. You're still wearing heels, I see."

Cinderella allowed herself to be guided to a golden settee, where Frederica sat down beside her. "I'd like to keep on wearing them as long as I'm able."

"Because you prefer them."

"Well, yes," Cinderella said. "But also because…well, the truth is, that I'm small enough even in heels. I don't know what people will think when they see how short I really am."

Frederica laughed. "I'm sure that everyone who matters already knows. Would you like some tea."

"No, thank you, I'm not supposed to drink any," Cinderella said. "It doesn't help with anemia, apparently."

"Oh, you poor dear," Frederica murmured. "I'm sorry to hear that pregnancy isn't going so well for you."

"Oh, it's alright," Cinderella said. "It isn't that bad, and I know that at the end I won't remember any of this."

"Even so, and that awful business with the bear as well; how's your man?"

"He has the fever I'm afraid," Cinderella murmured. "No one knows if Jean will make it or not. The doctors are treating him as best they can – although, I have to say, that I'm not sure how forcing brandy laced with gunpowder down his throat is supposed to help him – but they can't guarantee that he'll get better."

"You can't get hold of any quinine?"

Cinderella shook her head. "I've said that we'll pay any price for it, but it seems that there is genuinely none to be found; at least none here."

"I'm sorry," Frederica said. "If there was anything I could I would do it. A good retainer is rarer than gold and more precious than diamond. If I ever lost Anton I don't know what I'd do."

"I pray for him every day."

"Then it sounds as though you're doing everything you can," Frederica said. "Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"The Hispaniola landowners," Cinderella said, slightly apologetically. "I've had another idea."

Frederica leaned back a little. "Let's hear it."

Cinderella explained to her the idea that she'd had, and Frederica listened attentively until she was done.

"I have to say, it's certainly more possible than the last idea that you had," Frederica said. "With good fortune most of them will realise that Norman rule isn't that bad and end up staying for good. It could even be a more effective deterrent to mass exodus than the mere fact of no compensation, if handled properly. I…yes, I could suggest this to my father, with one caveat."

"What's that?" Cinderella asked.

"It could not be unlimited," Frederica said. "There needs to be a time limit on when they can just leave and go back to Amorique or it makes a nonsense of the whole business. Five years and the door closes."

"That isn't long enough," Cinderella said. "It isn't that much longer than the time until Normandie takes over the island. Give them twenty years."

"If they can't make up their minds quickly that isn't our fault," Frederica said. She smiled. "Shall we cut out all of the tedious haggling and settle on ten years?"

"Twelve," Cinderella suggested, with a smile of her own.

Frederica snorted. "Very well, twelve years, but only because I like you. I will write up your proposal and dispatch it to my father at once."

"Do you think he'll agree?"

"He won't like it too much," Frederica admitted. "But I think I can convince him of the merits of it. If they even stick around for a single year under our governance that will be a harvest and its accompanying tax and customs hall for our treasury. And the longer they stay then, whatever their rights, the harder they will find it to leave, most likely. In the end it will probably be only the most devoted patriots of Armorique who go, and I'm not sure that Normandie wants those sorts of people anyway." She smiled. "Good relations with Armorique are important to us, or they should be; when I told you that I hope that an era of cooperation and joint action between our countries is just beginning. So tell Prince Eugene and his father and your ministers that I will write to my father and put this to him, and that I hope for a satisfactory response." She laughed. "How does it feel, to be in the centre of things, making plans and decisions of such importance? How does it feel to go from washing floors to shaping the destiny of nations?"

Cinderella had never actually stopped to think about it like that. "I...when you put it like that it seems so...I seem so-"

"Good gracious if I'd know that I was going to bruise your confidence I would have kept my mouth shut," Frederica said. "You should be proud of how far you've come, and from what place. Honestly, I thought you'd be pleased with yourself."

"I'm probably a little too pleased with myself already, that's why I try not to think about it too much," Cinderella murmured. "Or at least, try not to show it when I do." She smiled shyly up at Frederica. "I suppose that, more than impressed, I feel grateful."

"Grateful? For what? Or perhaps to whom?"

"When Eugene asked me to marry him," Cinderella said. "When he and I were wed, even...I really had no idea what I was getting into. I didn't know the first thing about what my life would become. I only saw a man I loved...but I ended up embroiled in so much more than that. So many people have helped me to make a success of it, you not the least of them. I won't ever forget that. Thank you so much, Frederica, for everything."

* * *

Jean moaned, and his whole body shook.

Angelique clasped his hand. "It's alright, Jean, it's alright. I'm right here."

Jean moaned again.

"Please calm down," Angelique murmured. "Please, it…it will be better if you calm down, I promise. You need to calm down, and rest and…and get better."

Jean opened his mouth, and this time he didn't moan he…he seemed to be trying to speak.

"Jean?" Angelique cried. "Jean, can you hear me? Are you trying to say something to me? Jean, can you open your eyes?"

Jean didn't open his eyes. Instead, he turned his head to one side as he said, softly but strongly enough now that Angelique could hear him, "Maman?"

Angelique blinked. "I…no, Jean, it's me, it's Angelique. Your mother…she…she's not here any more." She had never actually met Jean's mother; she'd died long before Angelique had ever met him. He didn't talk about her much, but Angelique knew that she had been a good, kind woman. That was how she had managed to raise a good, kind son in the little time that had been allowed to her.

Jean groaned, sounding not so in pain now as he done a few moments earlier. "Maman."

Angelique closed her eyes and sank into the chair by Jean's bedside. _He's delirious. He doesn't know where he is or what's going on._

"I…I tried, mother," Jean said. "I remembered what you said. I've never forgotten. You…you asked me to be a good man. A better man than…and I tried, Maman. I tried to be a good man, like…like the knights in those stories you used to tell me. The ones I loved. I tried."

"And you did," Angelique said. "You did become a good man, you…you're the best man I know."

Jean almost smiled, and despite his delirium it seemed to Angelique that he laughed. "I even found a princess. A princess to serve, like this is a story. Can you believe that, Maman? Can you imagine me, serving a real life princess? With a sword and everything. There are times when I can't believe it myself. I think…I think every night when I go to sleep that this…this will be the day the dream ends. I'll wake up…and everything will be the way it was. But it never does."

"No," Angelique said. "And it never will. So long as you stay here, so long as you come back, then the dream won't ever end."

"The princess," Jean murmured. "It's like…it's as if she stepped out of the pages of those story books herself. She's so beautiful and kind and wise and brave and…and she doesn't have a single flaw."

Angelique snorted. "Oh, come on. I like Cinderella, don't get me wrong, but let's not get carried away, shall we? She's too nice for her own good half the time and she trusts too many people without waiting for them to prove that they deserve it and she…yes, she's wonderful, and maybe she wouldn't be if she didn't have those faults, but…that doesn't mean that they're not faults, does it? Or does it? If your flaws make you who you are does that mean that they're not flaws any more.

"Sometimes I think that you're too nice, too brave, and that you don't think enough about your own safety…but if you weren't those things you wouldn't be you. You wouldn't be my Jean. So…does that mean that you don't have any flaws after all? No, that can't be right. Else that would mean that none of us have any flaws and that's ridiculous isn't it?"

"I have to protect her," Jean said. "I have to do it, Maman, because there are times when it seems as though the whole worlds wants to own her or hurt her or corrupt her and I have to stop it from happening.

"Or at least I help Angelique to do that. Did I…did I ever tell you about Angelique?"

"Um, Jean?" Angelique asked. "I'm right here, you know, and I can hear every word coming out of your mouth so-"

"I wouldn't be alive without her, mother."

"You were managing before I came along."

"She's so clever, she always knows what to do."

Angelique felt herself blush. "That's not true, I just like you to think it is."

"We take care of each other. I don't know what I'd do without her."

Angelique smiled. "Me neither."

"I think you'd like her. At least I hope you would. I…I love her, Maman."

Angelique stared at him for a moment. "You…you…well why couldn't have said that to me sometime when you weren't delirious! Honestly you are the…I love you too." She kissed his hand and pressed it to her mouth. "I love you too, so please come back to me."

"But she doesn't love me," Jean said.

Angelique's eyes widened. She was stunned into speechlessness for a moment. "You…how could you…I…I never told you, did I? Well, to be fair, you didn't tell me either, so…we're both idiots, I suppose." She sighed. "Come back, Jean. Come back, so that we can be honest with each other."

* * *

After the conclusion of their business, Cinderella remained in Frederica's town house, talking of nothing important but simply spending time with a friend whose company she enjoyed. Eugene had encouraged her to do this - his exact words had been 'If Father is going to neglect his duties in order to serve his own enjoyment I don't see why you shouldn't do the same every now and then' - and so Cinderella didn't feel guilty about whiling away the hours with the Princess of Normandie, talking about books and music and theatre and anything else that caught their interest. It began to rain while Cinderella was there, but she didn't really pay any attention to the worsening of the weather until the wind began to howl outside, blowing on the window panes while the plants growing outside tap-tapped upon the glass as they were buffeted back and forth. When Cinderella looked up she found the sky had darkened while she wasn't looking. Though it was only the mid-afternoon the clouds were so heavy in the sky above that it was as gloomy an autumn's evening.

Frederica got to her feet and walked to the window, leaning her forehead against the window pane as she glanced upwards at the darkened sky. "You should probably get home, Cinderella; if this gets much worse it might become unsafe and I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you on the way back from mine. Anton! The princess of Armorique's carriage."

"At once, your highness."

The rain was falling heavily when Cinderella left, forming puddles on the streets that were only getting deeper as the falling water drove people off the street and into their homes. Cinderella almost slipped descending the wet and slippery steps from Frederica's house, and had to conclude that Frederica was right to send her away.

As the coach bore her home, Cinderella could hear thunder beginning to roll in the skies above, and at one point she even saw the world illuminated in blinding white by the flash of lightning. The horses whinnied and neighed in panic, and as she heard the coachman try to calm them Cinderella couldn't deny - at least not to herself - a frisson of fear and a sense of gladness that the journey from Frederica's house to the palace was not far. If she had to travel she would have become very concerned.

The rain had only intensified when the carriage clattered through the gates and up to the palace steps, and yet as they approached the palace Cinderella could see a number of horsemen outside, dragoons and hussars and horse grenadiers, their distinctive and colourful uniforms all wet with the pelting rain, and oilcloths pulled over their shakos and helmets and bearskin hats. Eugene was amongst them, swatched in a red cloak lined with fur, and General Gerard too. When he saw her carriage approaching Eugene leapt from his horse and ran, splashing through the puddle as he went, to the door to help Cinderella.

"Cinderella," he cried, as he took by the waist and half led, half pulled her up the steps and into the palace before she got soaked through to the skin - although the rain was so intense, and journey not long enough to have dried her out, that Cinderella was still left dripped water from her sodden frock onto the red carpet. "Thank God, you came back not a moment too soon."

"I didn't realise how bad it was getting until it was almost like this," Cinderella explained. "What's going on? Why are all those men outside?"

"Father hasn't returned yet," Eugene said. "And he doesn't have a carriage to shelter in. Alone, on horseback. I'm going to look for him, and Etienne as well, and the cavalry you saw out there."

"Oh dear," Cinderella murmured. Her first instinct was to offer to help herself, but she knew in her head that would have been a foolish thing to say. She couldn't ride - her first few attempts hadn't gone terribly well, and everyone agreed it was better that she stop trying before she had a serious accident, so she contented herself with enjoying the company of horses from places other than on their back - and if she went out in this storm that was gathering Eugene would only worry about her, and he needed to focus wholly upon his father. "I hope he's alright. Be careful, won't you? The weather sounds as though its getting worse all the time."

"I know," Eugene said. "That's why I have to find Father. I'll be back as soon as I find him, but I don't know when that will be and I can't come home without him." He placed his hands gently upon her face, and kissed her. "Try not to fret, or worry, and make sure that you eat, even if we've not returned." He gave a nod in the direction of Augustina, who entered the hall from a side room. "I was going to ask Mademoiselle du Bois to keep watch for you, if you hadn't returned before I left. You should change out of those wet clothes."

"I will," Cinderella said. "Please be careful."

"As careful as I can be," Eugene said, before he kissed her again. "I love you. Goodbye." And then he turned away, his great cloak swirling about him, and dashed back out into the rain to remount his waiting horse.

"Hie!" Eugene cried. "Away!" And with that the whole party of horsemen set off, hooves clattering upon the stone.

Cinderella watched them go, water dripping from her dress, until the pouring rain and the dark sky and the palace walls contrives so that she could not see them any longer.

Augustina took her by the arm. "Cinderella, you need to change out of that before you catch cold."

Cinderella nodded, as she allowed Augustina to guide her towards the stairs leading to her rooms.

 _Be safe, Eugene. And Etienne, and you, Your Majesty._

 _Be safe, everyone. God keep you all._

* * *

 _This is a fitter day for devils to ride than men,_ Etienne thought as the wind whipped across his face, blowing his cadenettes across his eyes so that he had his own hair as well as the water of the rain to wipe from them.

Lightning crashed down, briefly illuminating the fields around as it lanced down to skewer the earth beneath it, and the growling peels of thunder followed after like day followed night.

It was dark enough that he could have believed it were night now. The clouds were so thick and dark that the sun had been completely stolen away from them. The illumination of the lightning was the only time he could see more than gloom all around.

He was all alone, lacking any precise knowledge of where His Majesty might be or even where this shepherdess he went to visit lived, the searches had been forced to split up to spread a wide net. A net that had become even wider than intended once they started losing one another in the murk.

"Your Majesty?" Etienne bellowed, struggling to raise his voice above the wind, rain and thunder. "Your Majesty?"

At least his horse remained steady, for now. He had heard the way the princess' coach-horse had been neighing, much longer and they would have bolted from discomfort and Cinderella would have been in real trouble; but Tamburlaine was a warhorse, trained to withstand and fire and fury of the battlefield, and just as the cannonfire of the American war had not discomfited him, neither did the thunder.

All the same, Etienne was wary. It was almost dark enough to be mistaken for night, and the best horses became skittish in the darkness. He should be alright as long as he didn't push the black stallion too hard, but if Tamburlaine started to grow troubled he wasn't unprepared to leap off before he was thrown.

"Your Majesty?"

Another lightning flash, closer this time, close enough that Tamburlaine let out a snuffle of concern as he sidestepped away from it. Etienne rubbed the steed's neck, while his eyes were focussed on something else the lightning had briefly illuminated.

The flash had been too brief for him to get a good look, but it had been a dark shape, a shadow by the side of the road, a form that looked uncomfortably like a person.

"Your Majesty?" Etienne shouted, as a way of controlling the worry that was beginning to rise in his throat. _No. No, please, God, no._ The thing that he had seen was not moving, and if it were the King...Eugene might make a good king, and Cinderella a good queen, but Eugene shouldn't have to lose his father before he was thirty.

Etienne dismounted, hoping that Tamburlaine would stay where he was, and began to advance in the direction of the shape he'd seen. He stepped forward slowly, cautiously; he'd do no one any good, least of all the King, if he tripped into the roadside ditch and twisted his ankle.

"Your Majesty?" Etienne said, hoping that if he had indeed seen a person they were competent enough to answer him. "Hello? Is there anyone there?"

No answer, not even a cry of pain.

Rising dread twisted Etienne's face as the rain fell upon it and the rain battered it. He drew a book of matches from his coat pocket, and struggled to shield one of them from the rain as he lit it. The first swiftly became too damp to use, and so did the second, but he managed to strike the third and he cradled it, covering it with his hands, protecting it from the rain as though it were a light of hope.

He crouched down, and used the light of his precious match to light the way as he scuttled along the roadside until he came to it, what he had seen in the light of the lightning strike.

"My god," he whispered.

It was not the King, Lord be praised, but it was a body. Someone had tried to bury it, but it looked as though the rising wind had blown the dirt from off her face - it was a woman, as best he could tell. Etienne's match went out, and he cast it aside as he fumbled for another. Call him superstitious but he didn't want to be so close to this poor woman and yet unable to see her. He struck another match, and in the flickering light he was confronted with the woman's eyes, her lifeless eyes staring up at him from out of the dark. Etienne Gerard could not suppress a shudder of distaste.

He couldn't tell how old she was. He could tell practically nothing about her because of the state of the body, which was what had disturbed him most from first he set eyes upon her.

It was as though the body had been drained, as though blood and fluid and life itself had all been leeched from this poor woman, leaving her a wrinkled and desiccated husk. He had never seen anything like it, and he hoped he never would again.

 _Who in creation could have such a thing? Or should that be what?_

* * *

"Father?" Eugene yelled as he urged his horse Scipio onwards. "Father!"

Lighting struck, and Scipio neighed, but Eugene didn't slow the steed, nor even consider it. He was moving swiftly, cantering across the fields, crying out to the heavens as he went. Foolish it might have been, but he was heedless and beyond caution. His father was out here somewhere, in this cold and wet and howling wind, his father who was no longer a young man nor one in perfect health. He could not fail him now, not when he was depending on his son more than ever.

 _I should never have allowed this foolishness,_ Eugene thought, reproaching himself that the conditions for this awful situation had ever existed.

 _You do not rule your father, you couldn't have prevented this._

 _I should have tried._

 _What could you have done?_

 _Insisted that he stop visiting this woman!_

 _And when he refused?_

 _I should have...I should have done something!_

He had known that this was a mistake. It wasn't the fact that she was a shepherdess - alright, it wasn't really the fact that she was a shepherdess - it was the fact that she was young enough to be Eugene's sister, it was the fact that she lived out here, it was the fact that his father went alone, it was the fact that something like this could happen. No matter how Eugene tried to ignore them, his mind was filled with images of his father lying alone, abandoned in some field somewhere, injured with no one care for him, or simply catching his death from the rain and the cold.

"Father?"

Eugene saw something out of the corner, something yellow and - a light! A fire, flickering amidst the storm. Eugene tugged on Scipio's reins, guiding him in that direction, for no one would light a fire and then abandon it in a tempest like this, and whoever had made the fire could tell him something. They might know where Vanessa dwelt, they might have seen his father, they might have...they would certainly know more than him, they could hardly know less.

As he approached, as Scipio carried him closer and closer to the fire, Eugene could see a shepherd's hut beside it, and a little wooden paddock where a ram and a score of ewes fretted at the noise. The sound of their baa-ing was whipped away by the wind, but he could hear them as he got closer.

Could it be her? Had he stumbled upon Vanessa through some accident on providence? Eugene dismounted not far from the hut, running through the rain to push aside the animal skins that served at the hut door before ducking into the reed and wooden structure.

A second fire, much smaller than the one outside, burned within; and through the flickering light of that fire Eugene could see his father, slumbering peacefully beneath a blanket of hides. From what Eugene could see it appeared his father was naked.

"Your concern for your father is touching, but you needn't have worried, your highness," Vanessa said, and it was only when she spoke that Eugene noticed her sitting against the hut wall, not far away. She was also naked, absolutely so, uncovered by anything and yet the cold did not seem to trouble. "Louis has been safe with me."

 _Louis?_ "You should show some respect for your king."

Vanessa chuckled. "I apologise, your highness; it's hard to maintain proprieties regarding someone with whom you have been intimate. Please, sit down, wait out the storm. It's hardly safe to riding in weather like this."

Eugene sat, though reluctance rendered his movements slothful and sluggish. He did not know for certain, one way or the other, whether his father had ever sought comfort in the arms of another woman since his mother died. He hoped not, but he could not confirm it; it wasn't the sort of thing one talked about with ones father. Eugene hoped not but, if his hopes had previously been unfounded, he supposed had no grounds for complaint.

But this...to be so close to his father in this state, to have come upon the scene of his indiscretion, to sit down feet away from where he was sleeping off his lovemaking, his own father it...it seemed indecent to Eugene, skin-crawlingly so. If there was no objective offence in it the fact remained that this was not how he wished to see his father, think of his father. He wanted nothing to do with this and yet he could not escape it.

 _And with this woman, too._

"What happened?" Eugene asked, keeping his voice soft and low so as not to awaken his father.

Vanessa shrugged. Her blue eyes were guileless. "The storm came upon us in all its fury, and we comforted each other."

The way she phrased it seemed to place more responsibility for the act upon the weather than on either participant. Eugene was willing to accept that if only because it allowed him to hope that it wouldn't happen again. He didn't meet Vanessa's eyes, instead fixing his gaze just above her head. That meant there was less chance of him being distracted by her more southerly charms.

"Have you nothing to cover yourself with?" he demanded.

Vanessa giggled. "Is something wrong, your highness? Am I too beautiful for you to withstand? Do I tempt you too much? Do you desire me?"

"I am a married man," Eugene said sharply. "I have made solemn vows, pledging fidelity."

Vanessa giggled again. "You have sworn to fondle only a single peach that grows from the tree, but does that mean the juice of other fruits do not excite you? If you are so pure, your highness, why don't you look at me?"

He did not look at her because he was far from pure. He didn't look at her because the sight of her naked form excited him. She was not so fair as Cinderella, not so lithe nor as slender about the waist - before the pregnancy, anyway - as Cinderella was, but she was slender still and her breasts were of a greater size, like melons compared to bunches of grapes. He could feel his member stiffening in his britches.

Eugene shut his eyes. "I am a married man," he repeated. "I love my wife, and I will not dishonour or betray her." Cinderella possessed the kindness of an angel and the patience of a saint but even she would not forgive such a violation on his part; just the thought of how she wounded by such cruelty touched him to the quick, imagining the pain in her eyes so beautiful and so trusting when she learned how he had abused that trust doused his ardour more effectively than any bucket of cold water could have.

"Nor would I ask you to," Vanessa replied, as though the very notion shocked her to the core. "Any more than I would betray your father."

"The situations are hardly comparable," Eugene said coldly.

"They may not seem so now," Vanessa said. "But who knows what may come to pass? Should your father be less true than you to the woman he loves?"


	10. The King's Official Mistress

The King's Official Mistress

Before he set out, Eugene had advised Cinderella not to fuss or fret.

That was easier by far for him to say than for Cinderella to do. Though safe within the palace she could hear the thunder rolling outside, see the flashes of lightning illuminate her bedroom and reach even into the sitting room beyond. She could hear the rain slamming against the gallic windows that led out onto the balcony. And Eugene was out in such weather, and His Majesty too and General Gerard and all the others. And so no matter how much Cinderella's ladies tried to keep her distracted, no matter how loudly Marinette played the piano to try and drown out the sounds of the tempest beyond, Cinderella couldn't help but fret.

 _I hope they're all alright._

Hope was all that she could give them. As with Jean, so now with Eugene, there was nothing that she could do to help him in this.

All she could do was sit in her sitting room, listening to the conversation go on around her more than she could really be said to be taking part in it, thinking about Eugene and his father and hoping they were both fine despite the roaring tempest.

 _If anything should happen to them..._ Cinderella flinched from the mere thought. To lose Eugene would be the end of her, her heart would not be able to bear it, but even if anything were to befall His Majesty the King...she had been nine years without a father, she was...it was horribly impertinent even to think this, and Cinderella would never have dared to say so out loud, but she was just getting used to having one again and it felt so wonderful. As selfish as it sounded, she didn't want that to be ripped away from her a second time. She didn't want Eugene to suffer as she had.

The balcony doors rattled under a gust of wind.

"Blow winds and crack your cheeks," Christine murmured.

"For God's sake don't bring King Lear into this," Augustina replied.

They waited, and as they waited the skies began to clear as the rain eased off and the thunder ceased, but by that time the evening was gathering on and the gloom of cloudy skies was merely replaced by the gloom of the setting sun and still no word. Cinderella ate in her room, joined by all her ladies - even Angelique, who had come up from Jean's sickroom with a curious look on her face, and who had said nothing - and waited for word.

Partly because it was unusual for her to be so quiet, and partly because by this point Cinderella was getting desperate for anything, anything at all to distract her from worrying about why Eugene hadn't returned yet and what might have happened to him or his father in the storm, but after dinner she asked the other ladies if they mightn't excuse her for just a moment so that she could have a word with Angelique in private.

"Well if you want to talk privately why don't you leave the room and...I mean, certainly Cinderella, whatever you say," Drizella said, as the other ladies took their leave.

Cinderella smiled as the door shut, enclosing she and Angelique alone in the sitting. "She really is trying, don't you think?"

The absence of any sarcastic remark on the subject of Drizella from Angelique would have been unexpected at the best of times, now it was more evidence of something strange going on.

"Angelique?" Cinderella asked. "Angelique, are you alright?"

"Hmm?" Angelique looked up. "What? What's the matter?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to tell me," Cinderella said. "There's...is everything alright with Jean?"

"I...I think so. I think he might be getting a little better. I hope he is," Angelique said, her voice sliding down into a mumble so that Cinderella couldn't hear the last thing he said.

"I'm sorry?"

"He said he loves me," Angelique repeated. "He...he told me so. Except he didn't tell me he told his mother only...he was a bit delirious. But...but that doesn't mean it isn't true, does it?"

Cinderella couldn't help it. She had to laugh. She covered her mouth with one hand but that didn't stop the laughter falling from her lips like the peeling of bells.

Angelique's expression slipped into one of some degree of affront. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," Cinderella said. "It's just that, well, I've known that for a long time. Almost as long as I've known you."

"Really? You could have said something."

"It wouldn't have been my place to say what Jean wouldn't or couldn't, don't you agree?" Cinderella replied. "And besides - and this is why I had to laugh, I'm so sorry - I thought you knew. I thought...well, it seemed obvious, really."

"Obvious," Angelique said flatly. She wrung her hands in front of her. "I suppose you knew that I loved him as well, didn't you?"

"Don't you?"

"Yes, but he doesn't seem to know that!" Angelique snapped. "He told his mother that I don't love him. Why is it that you can see it but we couldn't?"

"Why could you see Serena and Grace for what they really were and I couldn't?" Cinderella replied.

"Because you're too nice for your own good?" Angelique suggested.

Cinderella rested her fingertips upon her knee. "I was going to suggest that perhaps we find it harder to see things closer to us."

"Well, maybe that too."

Cinderella smiled fondly. "So how does it feel, now that you know?"

"I have to find some way to tell him when he's conscious enough to make sense of it," Angelique said. She smiled, but it was fleeting and departed from her face as quickly as it had come. "I'm...mostly I'm a little surprised."

"That he loves you?"

"I suppose that must be it, but that isn't how it really feels," Angelique said. "I...I don't know how to say it."

Cinderella gestured to the seat next to her on the settee. "Why don't you sit down?"

Angelique did so, looking down at her own feet for a moment. "I thought it would feel different, you know? Being in love or being loved or whatever. But I don't feel any different at all. Is that normal? Is that how it was for you?"

"No," Cinderella admitted. "But I don't think there really is such a thing as normal when it comes to love."

"But you felt different?"

Cinderella sighed, and one hand flew to her heart and rested there just at the recollection of it. "I...I really don't know if I can put into the words the way I felt that night. I was so enthralled at just being there that I'd completely forgotten where I was or what I was doing; I'd almost forgotten that there was anyone in the room but me so when I felt his touch on my hand it startled me so much...but then I turned around and I looked into Eugene's and I just felt...oh, I can't describe it but it was so wonderful it...I think must have been what they were thinking of when they came up with the word heavenly." A fond smile played across Cinderella's face. "And then he took my hand, and kissed it, and I thought I was going to melt into a puddle there on the floor. But, to be perfectly honest Angelique, I wouldn't expect it to be the same for you."

"Really? Why not?"

"Because I'd never seen Eugene before that night, I had no idea who he was and...there was a spark between us, something telling us that, well, we were meant to be I suppose. Also, I'll be honest, nobody had ever treated me the way that he treated me that night, and I'd be lying if I said that didn't have something to do with it. But you and Jean, you've known each other for a long time, and so I wouldn't expect you to suddenly feel something new that you've never felt before. Are you honestly telling me you've only just fallen in love with him? Or have you only just realised it, or admitted it?"

"That makes a lot of sense," Angelique said. "I don't suppose you have any equally wise advice on how to tell him. I can't very well admit I heard it when he was babbling...can I?"

Cinderella smiled. "Just tell him how you feel, Angelique; once Jean knows, I'm sure he'll be able to be honest with you as well. That's the most important thing, keeping things from one another never did Eugene or I any good at all. Nor General Gerard or Lucrecia for that matter."

Angelique nodded. "You make it sound so easy...so why do I feel so nervous?"

Cinderella put one arm around Angelique's shoulders. "I'll do whatever I can to help you, Angelique, the way that you've done so much to help me."

She heard the sounds of footsteps running up the stairs and across the bedroom floor before Constance threw open the door into the sitting room. "Begging your pardon ma'am, but His Majesty has returned and he's asking for you immediately."

Cinderella rose to her feet. Asking for her immediately? That could mean anything, even something terrible. She felt her heart begin to beat more fiercely. "Is Prince Eugene with him?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Cinderella sighed with relief. _Thank God._ She glanced at Angelique. "Angelique, will you come with me?"

Angelique nodded, and the two of them descended the many layers of stairs down from the top of the Queen's Tower down to the great hall, where Eugene and the King were waiting, both dripping wet but otherwise not the worse for wear.

"You're back, both of you," Cinderella cried as she made her way quickly over to them, her footsteps quickening the closer she got to Eugene until she threw her arms around him and kissed him, relief making her careless of the fact that His Majesty was right there and Angelique not much farther away. "I know you told me not to worry, but I couldn't help it."

"You and my son are well matched in being incurable worrywarts, it seems," the King declared, with more than a hint of grumbling in his voice. "In any case, Cinderella, there is someone I would like you to meet."

Eugene's expression took on an air of some disgruntlement as he gently removed Cinderella's arms from around his neck, and stepped aside to reveal Vanessa, the girl who had saved Cinderella and Philippe from the bear in the forest.

"Mademoiselle Vanessa," Cinderella said. "How are you, and what brings you here again?" She wondered if she had saved either His Majesty or Eugene from more rampaging wildlife.

"My darling Vanessa is here to stay," His Majesty declared. "From now on she will live here in the palace with us, as my official Mistress."

Surprise robbed Cinderella of the power of speech. She stood there like a fool, staring at Vanessa while the King's words echoed in her mind.

 _Mistress?_ Cinderella was not stupid. She was an ingénue, not an idiot. She knew that some men had affairs, but she knew in her heart that it would never happen to her and, honestly, she didn't think it was particularly naive of her to believe that none of the men she knew well were capable of such behaviour. Of course His Majesty was widowed, not married, and so it involved no betrayal on his part and Cinderella might even have said that he was welcome to whatever happiness he could find, but it was the sheer baldness of the statement that astonished her and stole all speech away from her. She had never heard it put so bluntly before.

Vanessa laughed. "Oh, look what you've done, Louis! You've stunned the princess."

"I...I'm sorry, please forgive me," Cinderella said. "Your Majesty caught me by surprise, that's all."

Vanessa laughed. There was something familiar about that laugh, but though Cinderella felt it reminding her of something, she wasn't able to put her finger on precisely what or who it was reminding her of.

"I suppose it comes as a bit of a shock to you, your highness," Vanessa said. "You must have gotten used to being the only woman in the palace."

"That's not really why I-"

"Never mind, I'm sure that you'll get used to me soon enough," Vanessa said.

"Oh, I'd like us to do much more than that," Cinderella said with a smile, because however much the way His Majesty phrased it might have surprised her, however much the idea might seem bizarre to her, none of that was Vanessa's fault and none of it changed who she was: a newcomer to the palace, exactly as she herself had been not so very long ago, a girl from the sort of place and background who wouldn't normally be expected to reach the palace, and who didn't know all the sorts of things that girls like Augustina and Christine learnt when they were young. She would need help, just as Cinderella had needed help, and if Cinderella could help her then, well, wasn't she obliged to do so? She held out her hands to the other girl. "If there's anything that you need, or anything that I can help you with at all, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Your highness is far too kind."

"Cinderella, I insist," Cinderella said. "There's no need for us to stand on ceremony is there, Vanessa?"

"You see, son, they're becoming fast friends already," the King declared.

"Hmm," Eugene said, with a look as though something was stuck in his throat.

"One thing you can help me with right away, Cinderella, is my wardrobe," Vanessa said in a slightly embarrassed whisper. "Louis has reminded me that none of it is really fit for my new station in life."

"Oh, I understand completely," Cinderella. "I'll arrange an appointment for you with my dressmaker; she's extremely talented and works very quickly, too."

"That's so kind of you. Isn't that kind of her, Louis?"

"It is, it is indeed. Now, if you'll excuse us," His Majesty said, stifling a yawn with one hand. "Vanessa is very tired and so am I. Come, my sweet, I'll show you to your room before we retire, I mean I retire, I mean, ahem, come sweetheart."

"Oh, Louis, I can't wait," Vanessa said, slipping her hand into the crook of the King's arm, and exclaiming in an awed whisper at how large and grand the palace was as he led her away.

Cinderella turned to face Eugene. "I'm glad that everything was alright," she said.

"Was it?" Eugene asked. He frowned. "I...I wish that you hadn't been so familiar with her."

It was Cinderella's turn to frown back at him. "Familiar? You mean friendly?"

"You can call it what you like," Eugene replied. "I've never said anything about the fact that you allow your ladies-in-waiting to use your first name, even though they shouldn't, because I want you to be happy and I know you need real friendship around you. But that woman isn't one of your ladies, she's my father's...mistress; and there's no call for you to try and befriend her like that, or cede your status to her."

"She's a young woman who is all alone here and utterly unprepared," Cinderella said. "I don't expect you to understand what that feels like but I've stood in those shoes and-"

"She isn't you," Eugene said, with vehemence in his voice that took Cinderella back a little. "You're my wife, a princess of this country and that woman ought to respect that without being able to behave as though you're on an equal footing."

Cinderella pursed her lips together for a moment. "Eugene," she whispered. "Why do you dislike her so much?"

Eugene took a deep breath. His hands, Cinderella saw, were balled together into fists. "When your father brought home a new woman to be his wife, and new children to be his daughters, how did you feel?"

"I was happy," Cinderella said. "Daddy had been so sad, quiet, sighing all the time since Mama died. I thought that Stepmother was going to make him happy, and the thought of that made me happy too."

Eugene looked intensely chagrined. "Well, I'm sorry if I'm not such a kind and considerate person as you, darling," he said, but without any real malice in his voice; in fact he almost sounded amused for a moment. A degree of anger, however, swiftly returned to his tone as he continued. "I'm afraid that I can't be as generous as you. Mother's been gone for years, but when I think of him...with that woman, sharing a bed, flaunting her in front of me...the way she calls him Louis as though he were a plough-hand not a king, it...it's maddening! God knows what the country will say."

Cinderella hadn't considered that at all. When she and Eugene got engaged there had been no shortage of people and newspapers willing to say unkind things about her, to look down upon her, to imply or baldly state that she was not fit to wed the heir to the throne. Was Vanessa about to suffer the same fate? "How bad do you think it will be?"

"He isn't proposing to marry her, thank goodness," Eugene said. "So no one will really rage about it. But they'll laugh. They'll laugh at my father and they'll have a point, he's making a fool of himself."

"But does that really matter, so long as he's happy?"

"He wasn't unhappy before all this."

"No," Cinderella admitted. "But you know what I mean, you must."

Eugene stared at her, almost glared at her, for a moment, before his shoulders sagged as he let out a sigh. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I do. But...I'm afraid I can't agree with you about this, Cinderella, not about her. It rankles too much in my heart. But I don't want to argue with you about it, so can we put this aside, please?"

"Of course," Cinderella said. "I'm sorry if I upset you."

"You didn't," Eugene assured her. "I just...I can't help but hope that Father will tire of this soon, and of her; I cannot but hope that in a few weeks we'll have forgotten that all this ever happened."

* * *

"His official Mistress?" Augustina repeated.

"Yes," Cinderella said. She was back in her sitting room after a dinner at which Vanessa had joined them for the first time; all her ladies-in-waiting were ranged around her on the various chairs and settees as they discussed this rather surprising and somewhat momentous turn of events. "Is that some kind of title, I've never heard of it before."

"Technically, yes, although it's largely defunct now," Augustina said. "It was the practice of kings in the past to keep such a woman – you wouldn't have read about it, it's not the sort of thing that gets into the kind of history books given to princesses - but it hasn't been done for years; the idea is practically medieval."

"Actually," said Christine. "The last recorded use of what might be called the position comes in the seventeenth century-"

"Yes, I'm sure it did, I merely meant- oh, never mind," Augustina said. "The point is it's very bold of His Majesty to try and bring it back like this. Bold, and quite possibly ill-advised. I wonder what he's thinking."

"He's thinking of her," Marinette said softly.

One of Augustina's eyebrows rose. "Marinette, was that a joke?"

Marinette blinked. "No. Was it funny?"

"Not really, but it was a little more waspish than we've come to expect from you, well done," Augustina declared. "And you're probably right, His Majesty was almost certainly thinking of his new mistress when he decided to proclaim her his mistress. Heaven knows what people will say when they find out."

"Eugene was worried about that too," Cinderella murmured. "Will it be bad?"

"It won't be good, your highness," Christine declared. "All folk of good conscience will be outraged, this sort of thing just isn't done any more. Or at least it is not done openly. I marvel that His Majesty thought he could get away with it."

"Well, standards are slipping all over the place," Drizella said. "Once you let one slide, they all start falling down." She seemed oblivious to a glare from Angelique.

It was Angelique who spoke next. "I don't know about any of you but this is making me want a bath. I mean...how old is this woman, she's about our age, right? Your age, anyway; does that mean that whenever His Majesty looks at us he's been...? Eugh, what a dirty old man."

"Now, Angelique, that's not very kind," Cinderella said, with just a touch of sharpness. "Or very polite either, we are talking about His Majesty; the King."

"I know," Angelique said. "And I liked him as well."

"I would hate for anyone to judge him harshly on account of this," Cinderella said firmly. "He is still the man he was, the man you came to like and I to love. We can't abandon him, and we have no reason to."

"None?" Angelique wrinkled her nose. "Doesn't the fact that she's your age bother you at all?"

"If it doesn't trouble Vanessa why should it trouble me, or any of us?" Cinderella replied. "If His Majesty is content then all the better for him. I'd just like to ask that you all be considerate of Vanessa, if you can be, over the next few days, because I'm afraid she might need it, and because it feels like the very least that we can do."

* * *

 _Author's Note: This chapter is a lot shorter than most, for the simple reason that it isn't supposed to exist. I was going to just give a line in the next chapter to the effect of 'Cinderella was very surprised when the King had introduced Vanessa as his mistress the night before' when I decided that was the sort of thing that should probably be shown, and then before I could get to that I ended up writing the Angelique stuff and here we are._

 _I'm slightly curious: if you didn't know that Vanessa was actually Grace (if you can imagine not knowing) would you be more on Cinderella's side or Eugene's. Because until tonight I thought Cinderella had the stronger arguments but now…I can see where she's coming from, and I absolutely think that she would sympathise (or should that be empathise) with someone like Vanessa from the basis of her own experience, but now that Eugene has actually explained himself a bit…just because it doesn't make sense doesn't make it any less heartfelt. So please let me know what you think about that if you think anything._


	11. Respectable

Respectable

"Cinderella?"

"Mmm?" Cinderella murmured drowsily. It was night, and she was lying next to Eugene in her bed, snuggled up beside him with one hand resting on his shoulder and the other resting upon his chest. Eugene pressed against her was so warm, and the pillow was so soft beneath her face, that even Eugene calling to her struggled against the relentless tug of sleep on Cinderella.

"Please be careful," Eugene said, slipping an arm round Cinderella.

"Careful," Cinderella repeated. "What do I need to be careful of? Your here."

Eugene chuckled. "Cinderella, I'm being serious."

Something about his tone was sufficient to rouse Cinderella, or at least it roused her enough to realise that he was trying to rouse her. Cinderella opened her eyes - for as much as she could see between the darkness and the heavy curtains that blocked all light from the gallic windows - and pushed herself up just a little, raising her head off the invitingly soft pillow. "What are you talking about, darling? What's wrong?" She had a feeling that she already knew the answer.

"Vanessa," Eugene said, proving Cinderella right. "You need to be careful."

Cinderella pursed her lips together, as much as she knew when she thought about it that Eugene couldn't see her do so any more than she could really see him. It didn't help to think so, of course. Some things she just couldn't help. "I know that you don't like this, Eugene, and I even understand why you don't like her. But that doesn't mean she's dangerous."

"I wish I could be so sure," Eugene said. "You weren't there when I came across them together."

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "You...came across them?"

"I didn't see anything, thank God," Eugene whispered. "But...I admit, I shouldn't have burst into the hut like that, although I would defend myself by pointing out that I was desperate for information about my father. But when I went in, Father was asleep after...after, and she was just sitting there, naked."

"Completely naked."

"Absolutely naked."

Cinderella's first, rather absurd thought was to think that must have been very cold in weather like that. She would not always - or even particularly often - rush to put on a night-gown after she and Eugene were finished lovemaking, often she would lie naked in bed beside him, enjoying the feel of his body against hers, his hands upon her disrobed skin; but she had a silk blanket and a warm quilt between her and the cool night air, she wouldn't have dreamed of sitting around like that.

Somehow Cinderella doubted that was the kind of response Eugene was looking for. "Well," she said. "She probably wasn't expecting visitors."

"No," Eugene allowed. "But she didn't make even the slightest effort to cover herself. She asked me to sit down while she just sat there, showing me everything even after I asked her to cover up. And she..."

"Eugene?"

"The way she talked," Eugene said. "It was as though she was trying to proposition me. I refused, and after I did she tried to pass it off as a joke. Maybe it was a joke, but that sort of thing...it's not how normal people behave; it worries me."

"That...that is a little strange," Cinderella murmured, after a moment's hesitation in which she tried and failed to find any explanation that was even remotely convincing for why Vanessa might behave in such a way. Or at least, she failed to find an innocent explanation. Explanations like 'Vanessa really wanted to sleep with Eugene, and then tried to pass it off as a joke when he rebuffed her' explained everything, even if for His Majesty's sake Cinderella didn't want to think that the other woman was like that. Her voice was quiet. "Do you believe she wanted to seduce you?"

"I don't know what would bother me more," Eugene said. "That she did, or that she didn't. If she did then she's playing my father for a fool; and if she didn't...if it was all a joke to her then she is a very strange woman, and I'm worried about what she'll do next."

"Did you tell your father about this?"

"When?" Eugene asked. "I couldn't bring it up while she was there. I'd rather not bring it up where anyone could overhear, or why would we be whispering about this in the middle of the night?"

Cinderella could understand that. If anyone overheard Eugene telling her this then it would probably be all over the palace within a day or so, and beyond in a day after that, to the great embarrassment of everyone concerned. "Are you going to tell the King?"

"I don't know whether I should or not."

"Why don't you let me talk to Vanessa first, and see what she has to say?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Eugene said. "If she is strange then she might...you can't predict what she'll do."

"You can't think she'd hurt me. She saved my life, and she's never seemed erratic to me," Cinderella said. "I know it sounds unusual, but that doesn't make her mad or dangerous."

"There are other kinds of danger than just the physical," Eugene said. "I'm not sure how much of a good idea it is for you to associate with her. People are going to talk."

"People always talk," Cinderella said. "Mostly they seem to talk about what an awful person I am, and how I don't deserve to be a princess."

Eugene sighed, even as gave her waist a gentle squeeze of comfort. "I understand that you've got used to doing whatever you want because you feel you don't have anything to lose, and when it comes to some parts of the court that might even be true - although I think it's less so than it used to be; but the truth is that you've been able to get away with snubbing your nose at the court because the people have been stoutly on your side."

"I know that," Cinderella said. "I was there when they rescued me from Serena and Grace; I know how much I owe them."

"You can't lose them," Eugene said emphatically. "If you do then you'll have no one. No one but me and a few friends, and that is not enough."

"I don't understand."

"The nobility invented decadent behaviour," Eugene said. "And mistresses, come to that. Standards now aren't what they were - there's a reason I had to use Etienne to cover for me during my relationship with Katherine - but there's a little leeway allowed every now and then. But no one is more ardent for bourgeois morality than the bourgeoisie themselves, at least in public where it matters. What Father is about to do, what he's already done...it will be anathema to them, and the working class will take their lead from the middle.

"They didn't care when I was accused of sleeping with Lucien and Jean and half the palace besides," Cinderella pointed out.

"The important word there being accused, I'm afraid," Eugene said. "They didn't believe the accusations, either because they genuinely didn't think you capable of that or it suited them not to believe it. But this...if you're seen, undeniably seen, as being involved in this then it doesn't matter how much help you've been to them or how much your politics aligns with theirs, they'll drop you. I don't want that. I'm afraid I...I'm afraid you couldn't be protected if you let yourself become so isolated."

Cinderella frowned, but not at the threat to herself. "Eugene...if what you're saying is true then an innocent young woman is about to be vilified by the whole country through no fault of her own."

"Cinderella, haven't you been listening?"

"Of course I have, but how can I turn my back on someone who needs help just to protect my own reputation?" Cinderella asked. "That's what you're asking me to do, isn't it?"

She felt Eugene's hand settle on top of hers. "I know that it won't be easy for you, my love; but it is the right thing to do. You can do so much good for the whole country and all the people living here. Please don't throw it away for the sake of one person to whom you owe nothing."

"I...I'll think about it," Cinderella said, although she shuddered a little just to say so. It grated at her to even consider abandoning someone, someone so very like her, to the tender mercy of the aristocrats and the newspapers and their judgement. But...what if Eugene was right? And she was going to be a mother soon, she had to think about her child, too. And all the other children she could help, or not, depending on what she did and how she conducted herself. Yet however she tried to justify it, it rankled.

"I'd still like to talk to her, tomorrow," Cinderella added. "And I will," she said, to make things perfectly clear.

"To find out what she was doing?"

"I suppose so," Cinderella said. "And to find out what she really feels about His Majesty. But most of all because, if she is going to be dropped into the middle of all this I feel as though I ought to warn her even, or perhaps especially, if I can't help her along the way."

* * *

Lucrecia picked at the edges of her poached egg as it began to cool, and in cooling turn completely inedible.

"What's wrong?" Etienne asked.

The sound of his voice caused her to look up, into his hard face now softened with concern.

"It's nothing," she said quickly. "Nothing at all."

"I hope that I'm a better husband than the sort who would believe that denial," Etienne replied. "Clearly there's something troubling you. Isn't there anything I can do to help?"

"Princess Cinderella has asked me to the palace today," Lucrecia said softly.

Etienne's eyebrows rose. "I thought you enjoyed your visits there."

"I do," Lucrecia said. "But I'm afraid...I'm afraid she's going to ask me to clothe His Majesty's new mistress."

"Ah," Etienne said. "And that's a problem."

"What do I do?" Lucrecia asked. "What can I say?"

"That depends," Etienne said. "On how big a problem it really is."

"A problem that could destroy my business," Lucrecia said. "She's...a mistress? In this day and age? What's the King thinking of?"

"I could answer that in a very filthy fashion, but I won't," Etienne replied dryly. "The truth is I don't know what he's thinking. Eugene had the good sense to keep his youthful misadventures quiet before he was ready to settle down. Where His Majesty has...I can't explain it. I don't think anyone can except His Majesty, and he hasn't offered an explanation."

"What do you think Cinderella will do?"

"Something kind, no doubt, however unwise," Etienne said.

Lucrecia nodded. She suspected the same thing, although that didn't make having it confirmed much better. "What do I say to her? How do I explain it without her hating me?"

"That you want nothing to do with this?"

Lucrecia nodded.

Etienne leaned back in his chair. The wood creaked. He placed his hands upon the breakfast. "I...you probably know her highness better than I do. What's your instinct?"

"To be honest and explain everything."

"Then that's probably the best you can do," Etienne said. "If it helps, her highness doesn't seem much given to hatred."

"No, no you're absolutely right about that," Lucrecia said. "And what about you? What does the day bring for you?"

"Oh, you wouldn't be interested in my work," Etienne said.

"Now who's holding back?"

Etienne looked down for a moment. "I stumbled across a body, last night. A woman, dead. I don't know who she is or what happened but it's part of my new job to find out. Now aren't you glad you asked?"

Lucrecia let out a sharp intake of breath. "You let me ramble on about my small troubles while you have a murder to investigate?"

"I don't know for certain that it's murder yet," Etienne said. "And your troubles are anything but small to me."

"Have I told you that I love you?"

"I'm...honestly, not entirely sure."

"Well I do," Lucrecia said. "I honestly and truly do. So where will you even start, with this poor woman?"

"Someone has to know who she is," Etienne said. "Someone has to be looking for her: parents, husband, sweetheart, brother, sister, people don't just disappear without a trace unnoticed."

"They do if they have no one to notice them," Lucrecia said softly.

Etienne was silent for a moment. "Yes. Yes, I suppose that is true." He chewed upon a piece of toast for a moment. "Hopefully that won't be the case here, or...and I need to work out how she died."

"It's not clear?"

"No, not at all." Etienne shook his head. "When do you go to the palace?"

"I'll leave straight away; it's early for my appointment but I can try and see the princess alone. Or at least without...the other woman there."

"Good luck."

Lucrecia nodded. "To both of us."

* * *

There was a knock on the bedroom door.

"Who is it?" Cinderella asked, not looking around from the vanity mirror before which she was sat, putting on her earrings.

"Paulette, ma'am."

"Come in, Paulette," Cinderella said, and waited for the chamber-maid to do just that before she asked. "What is it?"

"Madame Gerard is downstairs, ma'am," Paulette said. "Requesting to speak with you."

Cinderella's first thought was to wonder since when Marinette had become a Madame - or, for that matter, when she needed to send Paulette on ahead to ask to speak with Cinderella - before she realised that Paulette was talking about Lucrecia. "Really?" she said, with a glance at the clock. "She's very early, but I don't suppose that matters. Thank you, Paulette, ask her to come right up."

Paulette curtsied. "Of course, ma'am." She left to bear the news to Lucrecia.

"Would you like me to go, ma'am?" Duchamp asked. "We're nearly finished anyway."

"Thank you, Duchamp, but that won't be necessary," Cinderella said. "Or at least, if it is I'm sure Lucrecia will say so."

Lucrecia did not, in fact, ask for privacy. She barely seemed to notice Duchamp at all, in fact when she first came into the bedroom she barely seemed to notice Cinderella. Her eyes were turned downwards, and her hands were clasped in front of her wringing nervously; her steps were slow and leaden-sounding on the floor, tapping heavily on the wood before she stepped onto one of the throw rugs that lay scattered over the floorboards.

The smile that, like a rose touched by the light of the new day, blossomed on Cinderella's face at the sight of her friend was killed by that same friend's demeanour, as though the rose that bloomed had been assailed by a sudden lethal frost. "Lucrecia? What on earth is the matter?" That something was the matter seemed so obvious that Cinderella didn't bother seeking confirmation. She got to her feet. "Is it Etienne? Is there anything I can do?"

"No, your highness, it's not Etienne," said Lucrecia, slowly and softly. "My marriage is perfectly happy."

"Then what is it?"

Lucrecia swallowed visibly. "Your highness...am I right in saying that you summoned me today to commission me on behalf of His Majesty the King's...mistress?"

"Yes, that's right," Cinderella said. "I know that it's a little strange - believe me, everyone thinks so - but Vanessa hasn't anything suitable to wear and you were able to start providing me with dresses so soon after we met...your speed and your talent mean that there really isn't anyone more suitable; and it seemed the obvious thing to do. But I'm afraid you're really very early, Lucrecia, we haven't even had breakfast yet and I wasn't expecting you until-"

"Your highness," Lucrecia said, softly but in such a way as to cut across Cinderella's words. "I thank you for your consideration, and your confidence in me and in my skill...but I am afraid that I must decline."

Cinderella was silent for a moment. "You must...decline?"

"Yes, your highness, I cannot be of service in this matter."

Cinderella's mouth formed an O of surprise, even as her hands rose up towards said mouth in a gesture of astonishment. "I...I don't understand..." Cinderella hesitated, and in that moment of hesitation she began to wonder if that statement was correct. "Unless I do. It's because she's a mistress, isn't it?" _It's exactly as Eugene said._

Lucrecia finally looked Cinderella in the eyes. "Your highness, I am a dressmaker for ladies of quality...for the sake of my reputation I dare not become associated with...kept harlots."

"That's rather harsh of you to say, I think," Cinderella said quietly. "Doesn't the kind of person she is count for anything?"

"My judgement of it counts for nothing, your highness," Lucrecia replied. "The fact is...your highness, in my window there is a sign proclaiming that I am your dressmaker. I am proud of that, proud of the gowns that I create for you and proud to say that I possess the royal patronage. But no one will need a sign to know that I am garbing the King's mistress, and if I'm seen to cater to that sort of immorality...I could lose all my other clients. Who will want to share their dressmaker with the King's-?"

"Please don't say it, Lucrecia," Cinderella said. "You've made your point. Will it be so bad?"

"I am afraid it will," Lucrecia said. "Even more than the moral question...fashion creates its own word of mouth. 'What a lovely gown, mademoiselle, from whoever did you get it?' 'Why, from Lucrecia Gerard, the Florentine.' 'Oh my, isn't she the one who clothes the King's mistress?' What lady will want such a conversation? Your highness...my little shop and my business may not seem like much to a princess, but it has been my dream since I was an apprentice, if not before. I cannot lose it." She shut her eyes. "I...if you want to find another dress maker for yourself-"

"And why would I want to do that?" Cinderella asked.

Lucrecia's eyes snapped open. "I...I was afraid that-"

"I understand," Cinderella said. "I understand why you had to say this, and I understand how important your work is to you." She turned away from Lucrecia, resting her fingertips upon her dressing table. "Eugene warned me that people would disapprove of what His Majesty has done. He warned me for my own sake but the truth is that I find it very hard to worry about me. After all, even if everyone in the whole world hated me except Eugene...I'd still be his princess so long as he loved me. All I need is one man to think that I'm special to protect me from many of the consequences of the things I do. I understand that you don't have that luxury, and I'm not going to punish you for doing what you think is best." [i]It might be a little awkward with Vanessa, but I'm sure I can manage somehow. At least I hope I can.[/i]

Lucrecia sagged with relief. "Thank you, your highness; thank you...for taking this so well. And the appointment-"

"Don't worry," Cinderella said. "I'll explain everything. Now, if you wouldn't mind excusing me?"

"Of course not, your highness," Lucrecia said, with a curtsy. "And thank you, once again."

She shut the door behind her. Cinderella listened to the sound of Lucrecia's footsteps upon the stairs for a moment before she flopped back down onto the stool before the dressing table. She sighed. "Even if I should have expected it, that was still rather disappointing."

"Ma'am," Duchamp said evenly.

Cinderella glanced up at her. Her lady's maid was not a friend, exactly, but she always gave Cinderella honest advice and she always told the truth when asked for it directly. That, and her experience in the palace, meant that she was sometimes the only person who could or would tell Cinderella when she was being very foolish. Cinderella didn't always take her advice - to her own cost, as when she had ignored Duchamp's warnings regarding Lucien Gerard - but she always appreciated the other woman's willingness to offer it.

"Is Eugene right, Duchamp?" she asked. "Are they all right? If I were wise would I have nothing to do with Vanessa?"

"As I recall, ma'am, I told you once that you would be judged by the people you associated with," Duchamp said.

"And I didn't listen to you then," Cinderella murmured, grateful that Duchamp hadn't made that point herself. "But at least all those people who judged Lucien did so on the basis of who he was." _If I had only done the same, or simply been able to see him for who he really was, how much happier would I have been?_ "Nobody knows what Vanessa is really like, least of all the people who are judging her."

"It may not be fair, ma'am, but it cannot be helped."

"Can't it?" Cinderella replied. "She saved my life, Duchamp. She saved Philippe. How can I repay that with a cold shoulder?"

"Your gratitude should not indebt you to social ruin, ma'am," Duchamp said.

Cinderella bowed her head. "When His Grace put the slipper on my foot...before I left, my stepmother told me that to survive here I would have to become cold and heartless...like her. I thought I'd managed to prove her wrong until now."

"A single absence of kindness does not make you heartless, ma'am," Duchamp said. "You have more heart than most, and it keeps you to warm to ever be cold, to my mind."

"That's very flattering of you to say, Duchamp," Cinderella said. "But am I still kind if I pick and choose when to be kind? Or am I just showing off to make myself more popular?"

"You whip yourself like an idle horse, ma'am," Duchamp said. "It is uncalled for."

"Perhaps," Cinderella admitted, though that was all she would admit. "What am I going to do?"

Duchamp didn't answer. How could she? This was Cinderella's decision to make.

Cinderella got up, and walked across the bedroom to ring the bell pull that hung down by her bed.

It was Paulette who answered. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Paulette, would you be a dear and go the prince's tower, and tell Prince Eugene that I would like him to come and escort me down to breakfast, if it's not too much trouble," Cinderella said. "I know it's a way, but-"

"It's my job, ma'am, and no trouble at all," Paulette said. "I'll be as quick as I can."

"Thank you, Paulette, I'm very grateful."

Paulette must have been quick, because Cinderella felt as though she had hardly been waiting any time at all when Eugene arrived, dressed in his white uniform, a fond smile playing upon his face. "You requested my presence, my lady."

Cinderella's smile in return was faint, restrained by the concerns that weighed upon her, but present nonetheless. "I did. I'm sorry that I made you come all this way-"

Eugene took her hand and raised it to his lips. "Hush. It was no trouble at all. Now, shall we go?"

"Yes, let's," Cinderella said, as she slipped her hand into the crook of Eugene's arm. "Thank you, Duchamp."

"Ma'am."

Eugene led Cinderella out of the bedroom, and side by side and arm in army they started to descend the stairs.

"I am curious, I confess," Eugene said. "I don't mind this at all, quite the opposite, but you haven't ever asked for me to come to you like this when I haven't."

"I'm afraid I have to talk to you," Cinderella said.

"You don't have to be afraid to talk to me."

Cinderella gave him a look, and a slight shake of her head. "Lucrecia came to see me. She doesn't want anything to do with Vanessa."

"Ah," Eugene murmured. "I see."

"You were right."

"I take no pleasure in it," Eugene said. "What...how did you leave things between you two?"

"Do you mean did we argue about it? No," Cinderella said. "She explained herself, and...I couldn't argue with any of it. Lucrecia has to take care of herself, and she can't afford to be involved in a scandal. But I don't intend to change my dressmaker; not if I can avoid it."

"I see," Eugene said. "I wish that you would show as much sense as Madame Gerard when it comes to avoiding scandal."

"I know, I know," Cinderella sighed. "But the more important question is what is Vanessa going to wear? And how can I tell His Majesty that my dress maker wants nothing to do with his mistress without upsetting him?"

"I'm afraid that might not be possible," Eugene said. "You're very lucky to have been spared the worst of Father's temper so far, but now..."

Cinderella looked up at him. It seemed strange to imagine that His Majesty, who had been so kind and considerate to her, who had treated her with an almost paternal benevolence, might be possessed of a volcanic temper, still less that he migth turn it upon her. Although there was that night, after the second attempt upon her life, when he had demanded the most extreme measures in response, no matter who was hurt by them.

 _But he meant to protect me then._

"Is it so bad?"

"He..." Eugene began. "Don't worry. Father isn't mad, and he loves you dearly, and I'll be right beside you in any event. Anyway, you're other point...I suppose she does need something to wear if she's going to stay here."

"I...I might have an idea," Cinderella said softly. _Although_ _I'm not at all sure you'll like it._ "When we were first engaged, when I had no or few gowns of my own, His Majesty gave me some of your mother's old things..." She let the implication hang in the air between them.

"You want to give them to her?" Eugene said. "To dress my father's mistress in my mother's clothes."

"I'm sorry, but I can't think what else to do," Cinderella said. "What dress maker is likely to do what Lucrecia wouldn't? Won't they all have the same concerns?"

Eugene stared down at her for a moment before his gaze softened. "You're right, probably anyway. And I'm the one who should apologise, I know you're only trying to help. You didn't ask for this absurd situation. And, whatever I think about the notion, it is a good idea."

"It's the best I could think of," Cinderella said. She didn't wear the late Queen's gowns frequently, and never had; not because they weren't beautiful - they were, some of them extremely so - but they weren't quite Cinderella's style; they had been tailored for a different woman, with different tastes to Cinderella who preferred dresses suited to her nature. Hopefully at some point Vanessa could find a dress maker to produce such gowns for her, but until then at least the Queen's wardrobe would leave her looking appropriate to the palace.

Shortly, they both arrived at the dining room, where through the open door Cinderella could see that His Majesty and Vanessa had beaten them to it. They were sat down, Vanessa at the King's right hand, leaning towards one another so that their foreheads were almost touching as they whispered sweet nothings to one another.

His Majesty looked so happy it was rather endearing.

Eugene leaned down. "I'll speak to Father now about the wardrobe, alone; if you do want to speak to Vanessa now might be a good time."

"Alright," Cinderella replied, as they walked in.

His Majesty, though he was the one facing the open doorway, didn't notice them enter. Rather it was Vanessa who seemed to sense their presence and turn towards. "Cinderella, Eugene! Good morning."

Eugene didn't look at all happy to be addressed by his unvarnished Christian name, but Cinderella smiled and said, "Good morning, Vanessa." While there were certain things that she wanted to know, she wasn't going to be unkind to the other woman, even if she couldn't get too close to her.

The King still didn't acknowledge them.

"Father?" Eugene said, as he and Cinderella walked down the side of the dining table.

"Hmm?"

"Father, I need to talk to you for a moment, alone," Eugene said.

"Oh, whatever you have to say you can say here, I'm sure," His Majesty said, already sounding bored by the conversation.

"And I'm sure that Mademoiselle Vanessa can stand to live without you for just a few moments," Eugene said with a touch of acid on his tongue.

Vanessa laughed, that tantalisingly familiar laugh. "It's alright, Louis, go with him. It might even be important."

"Very well, my sweet, but every moment will be agony without you," the King said, as he rose heavily to his feet. He stifled a yawn behind one hand. "Come on then, let's get this over with."

Eugene gave Cinderella a peck on the cheek, before he drew his father off and out of the room via the other door.

Vanessa shook her head. "These men and their important business. It's a wonder they find time for us at all, isn't it?"

Cinderella made a sound that was halfway between a giggle and a chuckle, and which she covered with one hand. "I've found that I've gotten to spend a lot more time with Eugene since I started helping him with his work."

"Oh, I am sorry," Vanessa said.

"I...why?"

"Because you have to pretend to be interested in dull nonsense in order to attract your husband's attention," Vanessa said.

Cinderella frowned. "No, that's not really what I meant...I enjoy helping Eugene, and helping the country at the same time; I wouldn't stop doing it for anything. I suppose what I was trying to say was that-"

"You were trying to say that your husband isn't willing to make time for you, so you have to force your way into his affairs in an effort to remind him you exist," Vanessa said. "And for that you have my pity. As you can see, I don't need to intrude upon his business in order to attract Louis' attention."

Cinderella felt a spark of irritation rise in her breast. "That's very kind of you, Vanessa, but I don't need your pity," she said, in a voice that took on a bit of an icy tinge to it. "I'm perfectly happy in the state of my marriage."

"Forgive me," Vanessa said. "In the country we call things what they seem to be. I suppose the court is more circumspect."

"That's one way of putting it," Cinderella said. _Another way might be polite._ "Vanessa, before the King and Prince Eugene return may I have a word with you?"

"Aren't we having a word now?"

"Yes, I suppose we are," Cinderella murmured. "But..." she glanced out of the glass doors leading out into the garden. "Would you care to step outside for a moment. The gardens are lovely, if you haven't seen them before. We won't be long, I promise."

Vanessa looked at her, and then at the garden. "Alright," she said, and got up from her chair. Vanessa threw open the gallic windows, and she and Cinderella stepped out into the crisp spring air. Bumble bees and many-coloured butterflies buzzed and fluttered around the flowers which had opened themselves in all their vibrancy to the rays of the sun. Birds sang merrily in the trees, and Cinderella found herself smiling at the words of their song - the words that only she could hear - as she and Vanessa walked between a pair of rosebushes, one blooming with red roses and the other with white.

"I love roses," Cinderella said, as she sniffed one particularly beautiful white bloom. "They're so lovely, aren't they?"

"You love white roses best of all, it seems," Vanessa said. "I can't say I'm surprised."

Cinderella giggled. "It does seem to be my colour, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but I was talking of the meaning also," Vanessa said. "Innocence, purity, sweetness; they suit you very well."

"Thank you," Cinderella said, feeling more comfortable now than she had in the dining room trying to work out whether Vanessa was insulting her on purpose or because she didn't realise how rude she was being.

"But I doubt you wanted to talk about roses."

"No, I'm afraid not," Cinderella murmured. She started to speak, but stopped, and fell silent for a moment.

 _How am I supposed to ask if she meant to proposition my husband?_

"Vanessa..." she began. "What...Prince Eugene told me something interesting last night...about when he found you in the storm."

"He was rather boorish then, I must say."

"Mmm," Cinderella murmured. "He got the impression that you...he thought that you wanted to...love him."

Vanessa laughed. "Well, he is a strong, handsome, manly man wouldn't you agree?"

"I...yes, of course he's handsome...I admit that's one of the reasons I married him, but..." Cinderella ran out of words like a clockwork toy that has wound down, or a music box where the music has come to a stop. She hadn't been sure what to expect but surely not an admission, and not such a brazen one. She stood rooted in place between the rose bushes, staring at Vanessa as though a second head had sprouted from her shoulders.

"Cinderella?" Vanessa asked solicitously. "Are you alright?"

"You admit it?" the words burst out from behind Cinderella's lips. "You wanted to-"

"Who wouldn't?" Vanessa replied with a shrug. "You obviously did."

"Yes, but he's my husband!" Cinderella declared.

"And I'm the King's mistress," Vanessa said. "For what am I, if not for fun outside of marriage?"

Cinderella was not a woman to whom anger came quickly or easily, but at this moment she was having to resist the urge to whack Vanessa over the head with a broom handle.

Vanessa smirked. "Are you going to tell me to stay away from your man?"

"I trust my husband to be faithful to me," Cinderella said icily. "You should be more concerned with what His Majesty would do if he knew about this. What do you think of him, really?"

Vanessa's smirk broadened. "He's a wealthy and powerful man."

"He's a very good man," Cinderella said. "Who doesn't deserve to be lied to or taken advantage of."

"Why don't you ask him how much fun he had last night before you accuse me of taking advantage of anyone," Vanessa said.

"You're feigning affection," Cinderella said sternly.

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," Cinderella replied. "I would. And I don't approve of it. You don't love him at all, do you?"

Vanessa laughed. "Of course not! He's a fat old man, what should I love?"

"Then why are you here?" Cinderella asked.

Vanessa stared at her, her blue eyes cold, her smile unflinching. "Was there anything else, Cinderella?"

"I think I'd prefer you call me princess," Cinderella whispered.

Vanessa giggled. "I'm sure you would, but I don't feel like it. So, Cinderella, was there anything else or can we go back inside?"

Cinderella took a deep breath. "I was going to give you a warning, and I will: I love his majesty, and I won't let you hurt him."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, I'm not going to hurt him," Vanessa cried. "I'm giving him more than he's had in years. And besides, even if I was up to something nefarious, how would you stop me?"

Cinderella said nothing, for the simple reason that she didn't know yet. But she would do something. All her sympathy for Vanessa had been burned away, replaced by concern for His Majesty. _I won't let you hurt him._

Vanessa said, "I thought so. Thank you, _Princess_ Cinderella. You've given me something to think about."

"And what is that?"

"If I'm not going to hop between beds," Vanessa said. "Why settle for being the mistress?"

With that remark which Cinderella didn't understand, Vanessa returned to the dining room with light steps, leaving Cinderella to follow with steps more sullen and weighed down by concern. What should she do now? Should she tell the King? And if she did, and Vanessa denied it? No, she would not tell the King, not right away; she would tell Eugene instead, certain in the knowledge that he would believe her without the need for proof, and see what he thought best to do after that.

 _And to think that I felt sorry for you, and wanted to help you,_ Cinderella felt like such a fool; and yet, at the same time, she felt a little confused as well. Why had Vanessa been so honest? Blunt country honesty could not explain it, because she was certainly not being honest with the King, or at least it seemed otherwise to Cinderella. Why, then, had she been so blunt with Cinderella? Why engender her hostility at all?

 _There's one way to find out, I suppose. She's been forthright enough so far._ "Mademoiselle Vanessa?"

Vanessa turned in the doorway to the dining room. "Yes, Cinderella?"

 _I'm going to stop letting people use my name until I can trust them._ "Why did you tell me...everything that you told me?" Cinderella asked. "Why didn't you lie to me like you're lying to His Majesty?"

Vanessa's face was still for a moment, her expression neutral, devoid of smile or smirk. "Because nobody wants to see the same trick twice."

Cinderella's expression reflected her bafflement. "What are you-"

"Haven't you had enough of people pretending to be your friend with cloying sweetness? Aren't you a little over that by now?" Vanessa demanded. "I'm sure you would have started to suspect me in the same way Prince Eugene respects me. Now you know exactly what I am, and you can both get over it." Vanessa strode into the dining room, leaving Cinderella to follow.

Cinderella could only have described breakfast as an excruciating affair. The King and Vanessa were, in Vanessa's own words, cloyingly sweet, booping noses and exchanging sweet nothings and heavenly sighs into one another's eyes. If Vanessa had been sincere it would have been a lovely sight to see, but the knowledge that Vanessa was faking every word out of her mouth, that she was hiding her contempt for the 'fat old man' behind a mask of affection, that she was playing someone good and generous for a fool, well, it made her skin crawl, and the fact that she had to sit next to Vanessa while it was happening - Eugene had insisted upon the right hand seat that protocol demanded, at which point Vanessa had taken the left hand chair which should by rights have belonged to Cinderella, who had _not_ insisted upon the point, because sitting between the two of them had promised to be even more uncomfortable than otherwise - only compounded her feelings of disgust and her difficulty in repressing them. Cinderella said nothing throughout the meal, she ate nothing, and sat with her head bowed as she wished that she could shut her ears as easily as her eyes.

 _Why are you doing this? What do you get out of it?_

With her head lowered and her eyes half closed, Cinderella didn't see the two of them go. Rather, it was the sudden quiet, the absence of the King's declarations of love - declarations that sounded real, no matter how Vanessa might protest that she was deceiving no one - that told her they were gone.

She heard someone else settle into the chair beside her, and guessed even before she heard him speak that it was Eugene.

"Father agreed to giving Vanessa all of my mother's old dresses; that's all of them, even the ones he didn't want given to you."

"I see," Cinderella murmured.

She felt Eugene's touch upon her arm. "You haven't eaten very much. We talked about that. Cinderella, what's the matter? Did something happen with Vanessa?"

"You were right," Cinderella admitted. "You were right about her. I feel so stupid."

"You're not," Eugene said. "Far from it. What did she say?"

Cinderella closed her eyes. "She doesn't care about your father at all. She called him a fat old man, but also a rich and powerful man as though it explained everything. She would have...in her hut it was exactly what you thought it was. She's lying, pretending...and she admitted all of it." _I feel so stupid._

She heard Eugene sigh with relief as he took his hand off her arm. "Thank God for that."

Surprise was enough to make Cinderella look up. "Eugene?"

"I was worried because I didn't understand what was going on," Eugene said. "And I admit I still don't really know why Father is exacting this way, but her...her I understand now. She's not odd, she's not mad, and she isn't genuine either. Just another grasping, greedy opportunist and those I understand." He leaned over and kissed Cinderella on the cheek. "Eat up darling, your eating for two, remember? And don't worry, I'm going to take care of everything."

"You are? But how?"

"I...I'd rather not say," Eugene said, looking away for a moment. "But rest assured it will be taken care of. This will all be over soon, and you'll never need to see Vanessa again."

* * *

Eugene had not come to his marriage a man wholly inexperienced with women.

Cinderella already knew that - how could she not, having come across his son by another woman? - but it remained something he wasn't too keen to remind her of, or to let her know details about.

This reluctance was not, he told himself, the same thing as dishonesty; he simply didn't see any point in rubbing her nose in the fact that he had known other women before her.

Some of those other women he had liked; one of them he had even loved before death parted them; and some of them he had paid to go away and never trouble him again.

He didn't begrudge them. He was wealthy enough to afford it - far wealthier than they were in almost all cases - and he looked on it simply as another kind of gift. While they were lovers, he frequently showered them with frequent gifts to keep them sweet on him - a tactic that, he thought somewhat guiltily, he had tried on Cinderella once or twice before he understood what she really wanted - and when they were done he gave them one last gift to not cause trouble.

He saw no reason why the same approach shouldn't work with Vanessa. He knew the sort perfectly well; as soon as Cinderella explained what had gone on between them he knew what she was: she'd seen a chance to make a pretty penny and she'd taken it. Now he was going to expedite the process.

Vanessa waltzed into the study wearing one of his mother's dresses. Wearing, in fact, the dress that Cinderella had worn on her first night in the palace, the blue one with the lace cuffs and the bows just above the hem of the dress. Her hair was elegantly and elaborately styled, had Father given her a lady's maid already?

 _After today it won't be an issue._

Vanessa beamed down at him. "Is my appearance more to your liking now, Eugene?"

"Prince Eugene or your highness," he said. "You are certainly less distracting to look at." _Although that doesn't mean I like the sight._

"I'm so glad you approve," Vanessa said. She batted her eyes at him. "I suppose your wife tattled to you?"

"Cinderella and I talk regularly," Eugene said. "Did you really expect me to betray my marriage vows?"

"Oh, please. Men break their marriage vows every day."

"Not to this girl," Eugene said.

Vanessa sighed. "All the world in love with Cinderella, what magic is this more potent than any potion? Is this why you asked me here, to rail at me for desiring you."

"No. You're here to name your price."

"My price?"

"To go away and never come back," Eugene said. "How much money do you want?"

Vanessa stared at him for a moment before she started to laugh. "That's it? That's why you...Eugene, Prince Eugene, your highness Prince Eugene, do you really think that you can just pay me off and I'll slip quietly into the night and I'll never be seen again?"

"Yes."

Vanessa's face darkened. "I'm not one of your girls."

"No, you're my father's girl and I want you gone before you embarass him."

"What does your father want, have you asked him?"

"What is your price?"

"You can't afford me."

"What do you want?"

Vanessa giggled. "Oh, Eugene, you wouldn't understand what I want. But understand this: keep your money, because I'm going anywhere." She turned and swept away, leaving a baffled Eugene behind her.

 _If it's not about money..._

 _Then what is she doing here?_

* * *

 _I said in my author's note to the very first chapter that I didn't want to just re-hash the first story, and so Grace's behaviour here is as much for my benefit as anything else: I didn't want to go down the 'villain pretends to be smiles and sunshine while Cinderella is too kind-hearted to suspect they might be up to something' route that The Rose and the Crown spent most of its length travelling (you probably don't want to read it either); instead I wanted to do something a bit different: Cinderella and Eugene know there is something wrong they just have no idea how deep it goes._

 _This also affords them both an opportunity to be less passive in the face of their enemy going forwards._

 _This subplot also reworks elements I originally considered for the first story, where the King was genuinely going to fall for someone who turned out to be a conniving two-faced viper; I didn't do that because it felt as though TRATC already had enough antagonists with Frederica and Serena, but when I was stuck for what to do with Grace in this story the idea of combining the elements seemed like a good one._


	12. Rebellion

Rebellion...

Angelique opened her eyes blearily. Where...Jean's room. She was in the sickroom with her head and arms resting on Jean's bed. She must have fallen asleep.

Angelique raised her head, wiping with one hand at the saliva that had ended up on the blanket. Hopefully it would dry out before anyone could see it.

She blinked several times, and with her other hand - not the one that was slightly damp - she rubbed the sleep dust out of her eyes.

It was only then that Angelique looked at Jean and saw that his eye - the one not obscured by all the bandages - was open.

"Morning," he murmured. "It is morning, isn't it?"

Angelique recoiled, making her chair wobble as she slammed into the wood-and-wicker back. "And just how long have you been awake?"

"I'm not quite sure," Jean said. "Awhile. I think."

"You might have said something," Angelique declared.

"I didn't want to disturb you."

Angelique rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I...how do you feel?"

Jean winced. "You'd think that since every part of me is hurting it would feel normal, but it doesn't." His eyes widened. "The princess! Is she-"

"Cinderella is fine," Angelique assured him. "And so is her baby and Philippe too, for that matter. Everyone's fine, as far as their health goes anyway." She smiled. "You saved the day, again."

Jean groaned. "Strange considering the last thing I remember is the bear shaking me like a rat in a dog's mouth. What did I miss?" He tried to sit up.

"Hey, I'm sure you shouldn't be moving around this soon," Angelique said, rising from her feet and making to push him back down again.

"I don't know exactly how long I've been lying on my back but I'm sure it's been too long," Jean muttered. "Please, Angelique, what happened?"

Angelique sat back down again. "You were hurt," she said. "Badly, as by the sound of it you can still feel. That bear...well, you know. But, before it could...this woman came out of nowhere. Out of the woods, anyway. Her name's Vanessa, she's a shepherdess and she scared the bear away."

Jean threw back his head. "Then it was her who saved the day, not me."

"There wouldn't have been a day to save if it hadn't been for you," Angelique insisted. "That bear would have done for Cinderella and maybe Philippe too before she arrived if you hadn't thrown yourself in the way."

"That's very kind of you to say, but this Mademoiselle Vanessa deserves fulsome praise nonetheless," Jean said. "I should thank her."

"I think His Majesty is thanking her enough for everyone," Angelique said. "She's his mistress."

Jean's eyes bulged. "She...really? Just like that?"

"Not quite, it took a few days," Angelique said. "But she's here now, lives in the palace and everything. Prince Eugene and Cinderella aren't too happy about it. I'm not sure who is, apart from His Majesty himself; and Vanessa, I suppose."

Jean frowned. "It sounds strange to hear you say it, but...why does the princess dislike this? It seems unlike her, somehow."

"You're right, when she first found out about she took the whole thing quite calmly," Angelique said. She was aware of the fact that she was putting off what she really wanted and, to some extent, needed to talk to Jean about, filling him in on all the details to avoid getting to the heart of the matter...but how could she say it? And how was she supposed to explain why she was only coming out with this now? And how to make him believe her?

Much better to focus on other things, and it wasn't as though he didn't need to know them. "The problem," she continued. "Is that Vanessa is out for herself, doesn't care for the King at all, only for what she can get out of him. It upset Cinderella a lot to find that out."

"Does His Majesty know he is decieved?"

"I don't know what he's thinking," Angelique said. "He seems taken in, but that might be their little game between the two of them. I don't know how he could...I mean he...I mean no disrespect, but you know what I mean?"

Jean gave a barely perceptible nod of the head. "But the princess is safe, even if she is troubled by this?"

"Yes," Angelique said. "Your sergeant's been running things the last few days with you here." She smiled. "Cinderella wouldn't have another officer appointed. Said nobody could replace you."

"I will have to work harder to justify her highness' confidence in future," Jean said.

"Not for a while yet you won't," Angelique said. "You're not getting out of this bed before doctor says its alright." She hesitated. Was now the moment? "I, um, I have something to tell you."

Jean blinked. "What is it?"

Angelique's mouth was dry, and she felt as though she could hear the beating of her heart growing faster and louder. "Well...they brought your sword back! Some men found it while they were tracking the bear. It's waiting for you when you're better."

 _His sword? You are such a coward, aren't you?_

"I'm glad," Jean said. "I hope that somebody remembered to recover my pistol as well."

"Yes, I did remember to pick it up off the ground," Angelique said. "I knew that you'd want it."

Jean smiled. "His highness the prince gave me that, in thanks for saving the life of the princess."

Angelique nodded. "Speaking of which: hand to hand combat with a bear? Really?"

"There wasn't much else to do," Jean said. "And I did try to shoot it first. Besides, it was worth a try."

"I'm almost certain that fighting a bear hand to hand is never worth a try," Angelique said, with acid dripping off the tip of her tongue.

"What would you have had me do, leave the princess and the young boy to their fate?"

"Of course not!" Angelique snapped, as she rose to her feet. "But there must have been something you could have done other than stick you own head in the bear's jaws instead."

"If there was I couldn't think of it at the time."

"And you nearly died because you didn't think! One of these days you actually will die!"

"As long as I protected the princess with my life would that really be so terrible?"

"Yes it would be terrible! It would be absolutely terrible because I love you-" Angelique stopped, but not until after the words had already tumbled out of her mouth. She gasped, her eyes wide, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Jean, sitting up in bed, looked similarly shocked. _Well, I suppose that's one way to say it. At least I don't have to worry about that any more._ Flippant thoughts aside, she wasn't sure if she wanted to hide or run or deny it or what she wanted to do. No, no she didn't want to do either of those things. She wanted...she wanted him to know she meant it. "I love you," she repeated. "I love you and if you left me I...I don't know what I'd do without you."

Jean sat there, looking as though he'd just been hit on the head with something. He didn't say anything, he didn't really even move. It was starting to worry her a little bit until he finally spoke, "You...really? I didn't realise."

 _He didn't realise. If I didn't know how he felt I'd be feeling worried right now._ "Is that all you have to say?"

"Well I can't really leap out of this bed and give you a kiss," Jean said. "I'm afraid I don't I'm up to leaping anywhere at the moment."

Angelique snorted even as a smile illuminated her face. "You can still talk, can't you?"

"I suppose," Jean murmured. "I've never...I wasn't sure how to tell you. I was afraid that...I was afraid to lose you if you didn't..."

"I understand," Angelique said. "But I do." She sat down on the bed, and placed her hand on top of his. "I love you, Jean Taurillion."

"I've always loved you, Angelique Bonnet."

And then, because it was best that he didn't move around too much, Angelique leaned forward, and kissed him.

* * *

The carriage rattled slightly on the cobblestones as it conveyed Cinderella and Eugene down from the palace to the Chamber of Deputies, where a motion on the status of the Hispaniola landowners was to be debated that very day.

No response had come from Frederica's father yet - it was still too soon to expect one - and Sieur Robert had informed them that he intended to try and stall until a reply was returned. But Christine's insistence - repeated this morning - that Sieur Robert's command of the house was not what it once was rang in Cinderella's ears as their coach carried them down to the Assembly.

There was no need for either of them to attend. They could not speak in any event. They would be mute observers, and things would proceed as they would without their observance. But it felt right to Cinderella that they should go nonetheless. Certainly it felt right that she should go: this crisis was of her making, Sieur Robert's diminished authority was of her doing, everything came back to the decisions that she had taken during her regency; and though she didn't regret her decisions nor would she hide from the consequences of making those choices.

Eugene had less need to accompany her, but Cinderella was glad that he had decided to do so. Just him being there gave her comfort, and if anything happened while she was there then she would undoubtedly be glad of his assitance.

"How do you feel?" he asked, not for the first time that day.

"I'm alright," Cinderella said softly. She was now in the sixth week of her pregnancy - which was to say it had been little over a fortnight since the doctor had told her she was four weeks with child - and though her belly hadn't yet started to swell, or at least not so that Cinderella noticed, her breasts had become a little swollen and tender. Even now Cinderella could feel them aching, a constant dull throbbing pain beating at her thoughts. The fact that her dresses had all been tailored to cling to and display her every curve and thus left little room for expansion probably didn't help.

 _I shall have to get Lucrecia to make me something with a looser fit._

Part of the reason she was glad of Eugene's presence was that she found dizziness coming more often now. She didn't trust herself to climb up and down the many stairs to her chambers by herself any more - today it had been Marinette's turn to be her chaperone, all her ladies were very good about the duty and bore it with great tolerance; even Drizella muttered under her breath about how bored she was - and she wasn't sure she could have faced the climb to the gallery alone.

The look in his eyes told her that Eugene had read all of that into her two words. "Are you sure that choker was a good idea?"

In spite of her resolve to dress as she liked and let others think as they liked, Cinderella had gotten into the habit of not wearing elaborate jewellery when she visited the Assembly; thus, aside from the wedding and engagement rings upon her finger - how long until her fingers swelled and she couldn't get them on any more - and a pair of very small pearl earrings almost hidden under her hair, Cinderella wore no pearls or precious stones. She was, however, wearing a white silk choker fastened tight around her neck. Soft as the silk was she could still feel it quite distinctly.

She smiled. "I hope I haven't reached the point where it's no use even trying to look pretty yet."

Eugene raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "You still look absolutely divine."

Cinderella used her free hand to cover her mouth as she giggled. "I suppose there are a few - a very few - occassions when I could approve of you lying to me."

"I'll bear that in mind," Eugene said, with an undercurrent of amusement in his tone. "But on this particular occassion I wasn't lying."

Cinderella smiled at him for a moment, before a sigh escaped her lips. "What are we going to do?"

"About what, there seems to be so much that requires our intervention."

"I know," Cinderella said wearily. "But in particular I was thinking of Vanessa."

"I'm not sure what we can do about her," Eugene said. "But fortunately I'm not sure there's the need for us to do anything that you seem to think."

"Really?" Cinderella's tone was incredulous. "Eugene, she's playing your father for a fool."

"We don't know that," Eugene said. "It seems that way, I admit, but Father could be playing himself."

"He didn't seem as though he was," Cinderella replied. "And...what about before he brought Vanessa home with him, how cheerful he was at breakfast, the way he didn't care about his work, how do you explain that? Would he really go that far just to pretend to be in love? I really believe that he really does love her; think of how hurt he'll be when the truth comes to light."

Eugene frowned. "He might be embarrassed, if you're right. In fact I'll go further and say that he will certainly be embarrassed when he comes to his senses and realises how he has been carrying on. But he is the King and his own man, it's not for us to protect him from the consequences of his own follies. If he wants to make a fool of himself with a girl young enough to be his daughter that is his prerogative."

Cinderella nodded, although only slowly such was her reluctance to concede that Eugene was right. Everything he said made sense, but that didn't mean she liked it any better. It seemed poor repayment for His Majesty's kindness to turn her back on him now. "I just wish there was something I could do."

Eugene let out a small laugh.

"What's so funny?" Cinderella asked.

"Considering you don't particularly enjoy being coddled by me you sometimes show a great desire to mother other people," Eugene said.

Cinderella felt her face heat up a little. "I suppose...I am a bit of a hypocrite, aren't I?"

"No more than the rest of us, and you have the very best of motives," Eugene said. "I wouldn't worry too much. These girls...men find them easy to care for, but they tire of them with equal ease. It wouldn't surprise me at all if the bloom went off the rose soon."

"It wouldn't surprise me if somebody said the same thing about me, once," Cinderella said softly.

"You are not Vanessa, any more than she is you."

"I know...but I could have been," Cinderella said. "Look at all the wonderful things that you've given me, things that I never would have had no my own. I'd be lying if I said that I don't love having them: jewels and dresses and servants and companions and-"

"Hard work, public ridicule, constant attention from all sides, salacious gossip in the press, earnest thought on how to improve the condition of the people?" Eugene said. "If you're going to criticse yourself for enjoying the luxuries of your position then at least give yourself the credit for the burdens that you bear. Some of them are unavoidable, I admit, but do you really believe that Mademoiselle Vanessa is going to work to change the law to make people's lives easier? Does she seem as though her humble background has given her a great desire to help the humblest? That is the difference between the two of you."

Cinderella allowed herself to be convinced, and leaned against his shoulder and said nothing more on the subject the rest of the way, hoping in silence that Eugene was right about both her and Vanessa, and that the King's humiliaton would be brief and kept to a minimum.

They arrived at the Chamber of Deputies not long after, to see people already streaming up the steps and into the impressive baroque structure that loomed over them. Some of them, no doubt, were deputies that Cinderella didn't recognise, but some of them - the ladies, at least - were here to observe even as they were.

Eugene leapt down out of the carriage, and held out both hands to Cinderella. A good thing too, as no sooner had she set one white slipper upon the footplate than Cinderella was assailed by a wave of light-headedness, and the next thing she knew Eugene had grabbed her around the waist and lowered her down the ground. She dreaded to think what might have happened if she had come alone.

Eugene kept hold of her even after her feet touched the cobbles of the street. "We can always go home, if you want to. It might even be a good idea."

Cinderella placed her hands delicately upon his arms. "I'll be fine, as long as your here. I think I owe it to everyone to be here for this."

Eugene expression was grave, his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched, but he nodded. "So long as you feel up to it."

But he kept one arm around her waist and with his free hand he held onto hers as they climbed the steps and entered into the building, if not into the chamber proper were they were forbidden to go.

Inside the chamber was darker than outside, though not noticeably cooler. The echoes of discussion could already be held coming from the Chamber itself, along with the braying jeers and cheers that characterised the political debate. Sergeants at arms in tights and carrying swords stood guard, while pages in white wigs scurried to and fro with bundles of scrolls in their arms. Deputies in frock coats and tall hats whispered to one another in the corridors.

People bowed to the prince and princess as they crossed through those same cavernous corridors of stone, past musty portraits and marble sculptures in the classical style, towards the stairs leading up to the gallery. Cinderella tried to keep a smile on her face as she sought to ignore the possibility that a man who had helped her - and who, despite their disagreements, she thought was a good man - might be about to see his career destroyed as a result of something that she had done. Eugene murmured a few things to some of those they passed by, but Cinderella wasn't really paying attention to what he said.

They climbed the narrow spiral staircase - it was just about wide enough for the two of them abreast, but Cinderella was more than ever glad of Eugene's help - until they reached the gallery, where they were fortunate to find a couple of seats on the corner at the front, directly looking down upon the chamber below, waiting for them. As they took their seats, a murmur ran around the gallery and drew the attention of a few of the Deputies below. Sieur Robert, standing at the despatch box on the government side of the house, glanced up for a moment, and gave a barely perceptible nod to them.

The chamber was a maelstrom of noise, but Sieur Robert valiantly strove to be heard over the tempest. "Monsieur Speaker," he said. "Monsieur Speaker!"

"Quiet in the house! Let the Premier be heard!"

The speaker's plea had little effect, but it did quiet the chamber just enough that Sieur Robert could make his voice heard above the tumult. "I appreciate the desire of this assembly to act on behalf of loyal subjects of the King who appear likely to suffer as a result of the decisions of His Majesty's government-"

"Say who you really mean!" a voice - Cinderella could not see who - shouted up. "Jezebel!"

Cinderella flinched. She supposed she ought to be used to it by now, but she wasn't sure that she would ever get used to the insults that were hurled at her in this place. She half expected him who had insulted her to be rewarded with the cheers of the chamber, but instead - and contrary to her expectations - a cry of shame arose from both sides of the house and quite drowned out any adulation her assailant might have recieved.

 _What did I do to make myself so popular in this place?_

"By His Majesty's government," Sieur Robert repeated. "And let me be frank and explicit-" laughter temporarily drowned him out. "His Majesty's government remains committed to finding a solution that will satisfy these sons of Armorique across the seas. That is why His Majesty's government has already entered into negotiations with His Majesty King Frederick of Normandie, and we expect a response shortly which will, we hope, alleviate all concerns of all parties. That is why I urge this house to do nothing that will prejudice those negotiations or give our Norman allies any cause to believe that we are not in deadly earnest in our proposals. It is for that reason that I call upon this house to stand behind His Majesty's government on this delicate issue and to do nothing that may end up harming our citizens on that far-off island."

"Resign!" someone shouted, and a chorus of 'hear hear' erupted from both sides of the house.

Sieur Robert sat down, and Lord Roux rose from the other side of the chamber. He spoke in a nasal voice that was somewhat unpleasant to listen to. "Monsieur Speaker, the right honourable premier asks this chamber to stand behind the government. But, Monsieur Speaker, the point at issue today is that this chamber has no confidence in His Majesty's government as we will prove this very day in the lobbies! This chamber has no confidence in the government to manage the fate of our faithful islanders to their advantage, nor to do correctly govern and administer the realm. This chamber, in fact, has no confidence in His Majesty's government in any matter, and the blame for that must lie squarely upon the right honourable premier who has clung to his seals of office well past the point of wisdom or even reason. For God's sake man you have sat there too long for any good you have been doing, go at once and allow a successor to take your place who commands the confidence of the house and the country at large."

Sieur Robert leapt to his feet at once. "The right honourable leader of the opposition forgets himself when he presumes not only to speak for the house but also to demand the resignation of the King's minister. Yet since he has so vehemently flung down his gage I will take it up. I say to my friends in the chamber that I accept this challenge, and I call upon my friends to support me in the lobby today that we may see, beyond a shadow of a doubt, who possesses the confidence of the chamber and who does not!"

More speeches followed, and most of them opposed to Sieur Robert. It was clear that, even if the Deputies could not actually do anything, they very much wished to signal their desire that something should be done. As speaker followed speaker, dwelling on the loyalty of the islanders during the American War or hinting at Normandie's wicked reputation or simply attacking the agreement which would see the island change hands, Sieur Robert seemed to diminish before Cinderella's eyes, his pride and dignity alike draining out of him.

Cinderella was, and it felt strange to admit this, a little surprised that more didn't attack her in the course of their speeches. She was under no illusions that she was popular amongst these people, and in the past people had not even been shy in calling for her to be murdered for the good of the country. When she had come here, the most she had hoped for was that her condition would blunt that particular viciousness - surely no one here was so base that they would murder her unborn child as well as her - but far from that, she was not even assailed at all. In fact she was barely mentioned, and when she was it was often with a note of grudging praise.

 _I suppose I should feel humbled by how little they really think about me, but I did this. This is all my fault. So why hasn't anyone brought that up?_

A young deputy, his hair dyed purple to match his waistcoat, rose to his feet. "The right honourable premier speaks of His Majesty's government. Notwithstanding the right honourable gentleman's proven talent for mendacity-"

"Janus! Janus!"

"-and betrayal-"

"Judas!"

"-he goes too far, or thinks too little of the collective wisdom of this chamber, if he expects it to believe that he is the minister of His Majesty's government. Are we not all aware, as the whole of the country cannot fail to be aware, of what concerns His Majesty's mind at this hour and it is not the business of government!" the deputy waited for the 'hear hear's to die down before he continued. "Indeed, it is clear even to the most dull-witted throughout the nation that the right honourable gentleman ought rather to speak of Her Highness' government, for it is none other than Princes Cinderella who has become the prime mover of all the public and diplomatic affairs in Armorique, and turns both princes and ministers alike into her puppets."

 _This is more what I expected,_ Cinderella thought with a sense of resignation as indistinct shouting consumed the chamber.

The young deputy remained standing, raising his hands for calm and quiet. "I am not finished! Monsieur Speaker I am not yet done! This house must not think that I mean to attack or to impugn her highness! Far from it! Indeed I would go so far as to say that in a royal family which seems, at the present hour, to be comprised entirely of philanderers and fools it is a blessing upon this nation that there is within the palace a woman who is possessed of wisdom, morality and decency. Indeed, if some months ahead, a future king springs out of his mother's womb blessed with his mother's virtues then it will be all the better for the fortunes of the monarchy and the state."

"Hear hear! Hear hear!"

Cinderella's eyebrows rose. She barely heard the rest of what he said - it turned then into another attack on Sieur Robert - as her mind reeled from what was without doubt one of the nicest things that anyone in the chamber had ever had to say about her. What _had_ brought all this on?

She glanced at Eugene to see how he was taking being called a philanderer and a fool. He looked remarkably calm about the whole thing. He must have realised that Cinderella was looking at him, because he glanced at her with a slight smile and whispered, "I've been called worse."

The speeches continued until the vote was called, and the deputies from both sides of the house mingled together in the aisle between the two rows of benches, before splitting up once again to walk into the two lobbies.

"Which lobby is which?" Cinderella asked.

"On the right is aye, and the left is nay," Eugene said.

Cinderella placed one hand gently on the brass railing as she watched the division. There were more, many more, so many more that it wasn't even close, deputies heading into the aye lobby, voting against the government. Sieur Robert's friends whom he had called upon to support him, seemed a sad and diminished band by comparison.

Sieur Robert himself was not heading into either lobby. He remained at the dispatch box, watching as his own deputies, the flower of his party, troops past him without a glance to vote against him and his government. Eventually he couldn't even watch, but stood with his head bowed as those who had once rallied to his call, cheered his speeches, obeyed his every word now consigned him to oblivion without so much as a second glance in his direction. It was clear from watching that he now, at least, comprehended his position beyond doubt. The emperor was without his army.

The vote was called, four hundred and thirty-eight to one hundred and forty-three against the government. Amidst the cheers of the victors and the whispers in the gallery, all that Cinderella could feel was guilt.

Eugene helped Cinderella down the stairs, where a page found them and told that Sieur Robert requested they join him in one of the private lounges. They arrived to find him, looking slightly pale from his experience, filling a glass of scotch.

"Your highnesses, thank you for coming. Would either of you care to join me?"

They both declined. "I'm so sorry, Sieur Robert," Cinderella said.

"Please, princess, you have no cause to apologise," Sieur Robert said, gesturing to a pair of well-stuffed chairs for them to take. "My fate is not of your making, and all political careers end in failure at any rate. This day was coming sooner or later." He sat down, as they did likewise. "Of course I have no choice now but to offer my resignation to His Majesty."

"I hope he will be in a proper condition to recieve it," Eugene said. "And to thank you for your service as you deserve."

"Indeed," Sieur Robert said, taking a sip of his scotch. "Your highness, if I may ask what is His Majesty doing? At best he is inspiring ridicule and at worse moral censure. What drives him to act this way?"

"I realy can't say," Eugene said. "I agree it isn't like him but...look we all know this sort of girl; she's an opportunist, and in a month she'll be forgotten."

"I hope so," Sieur Robert said, taking another drink. "Although I'm bound to say that not many deputies share your confidence. Nor does society in general. Many I know are expecting a long haul, as you might have guessed, princess."

"No," Cinderella murmured. "Should I have noticed something I didn't?"

"I don't see how you can have failed to notice the more affable words the chamber had for you."

"Yes," Cinderella said. "That did surprise me."

Sieur Robert smiled. "A knight may be a villain in a story which pits him against a romantic bandit, and that same knight may be a hero in a story in which he rescues a maiden from a dragon. The same man, but what has changed to make the villain a hero?"

"Who he's up against," Eugene said.

Sieur Robert nodded. "You are our knight, princess, and now it is feared there is a dragon in the palace. Good day to you both. Princess Cinderella, I wish you the very best of luck in all of your endeavours and interventions."

"Even after what they cost you?" Cinderella asked.

"You reminded me that I got into politics in order to do the right thing," Sieur Robert said. "And for that I thank you. A piece of advice, if I may?"

"Of course."

"If you want to know why the poor are so neglected," Sieur Robert said. "Start with who gets to vote and who doesn't."

* * *

They returned to the palace, where they found Angelique waiting for them in the hallway with a bright smile lighting up her face and an eager look in her eyes.

"Angelique," Cinderella said. "What are you-"

"He's awake!" Angelique cried, the words springing from her lips as though they had been contained for two long already and could not be held in any more.

Cinderella gasped, one hand flying to her heart. "Really? Oh, that's simply wonderful to hear." She glanced at Eugene.

He smiled. "Of course, you must go and see him. Give him my regards; I'll leave you with Lady Bonnet for now. I'll come and find you later." He kissed her on the cheek, and left her with Angelique as he left the palace as swiftly as he had entered it, calling for his horse.

Cinderella turned back to Angelique. "Lead the way," she said, although she already knew where Jean was.

Nonetheless Angelique took the lead, if only by half a step, as they made their way towards Jean's sickroom.

"You told him then?" Cinderella asked, sweetness and amusement mingling her voice in equal measure.

"I didn't say that," Angelique said.

"You didn't have to," Cinderella replied. "Your smile said everything that you didn't, and more."

The same smile that had told Cinderella all she needed to know grew a little wider at her words.

They arrived at the sickroom, were Angelique opened the door to reveal Jean sitting up in bed as though he were expecting her. He looked paler and more frail than he had been before his awful experience, and his body - including half his face - was still swathed in bandages. But he was alive and he was awake and he was up and he smiled at her and Cinderella felt such relief coursing through her at the sight. He was going to get better. He wasn't going to die. It was going to be alright. This, at least, was going to be alright.

"Your highness," he said, and his voice at least didn't seem to have changed at all. "I would bow, but I'm afraid of what Angelique would do to me if I tried to get out to bed.

Cinderella laughed, and there was such relief in her laughter that it was like the peeling of bells. "That's quite alright, Jean. You can stay right where you are." She crossed the dark room, her skirt swishing around her as she walked, and sat down on the side of his bed. "How do you feel?"

"I ache a lot, and these bandages itch, your highness."

Cinderella laughed again, and a fond smile lingered on her face. "I'm sorry about that. Hopefully the bandages can come off soon."

"I long for the day I can return to duty, your highness."

"I'm sure I've told you that you can call me Cinderella in private, Jean," Cinderella said, with the merest hint of reproach. "As for your duties, I don't want you to worry about a thing. Come back when your ready, and not a minute before."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure of that," Angelique said.

Jean bowed his head. "I seem to have little choice in the matter. Princess...Cinderella...I am very glad to see you well and safe, and I am sorry that you had to rely upon an unknown rescuer after I-"

"That's enough, Jean," Cinderella said fiercely. "That's quite enough. What you did and what you've done for me...how many times have you saved my life now? I really will have to start being more careful." She wiped away a couple of tears which threatened to fall from her eyes, and took Jean's hands in her gentle grasp. "Eugene is my prince, my husband and my love," she said. "But you...you're my hero, Jean Taurillion." She leaned forward, and kissed him on the cheek. "So get well soon."

* * *

Eugene looked around the rather bare stone office. "So…this is where you work?"

"It is," Etienne said. It was true that it was an austere place, but it _was_ in one of the last parts of a medieval fortress still standing – the old Gatehouse, from when the city still had a curtain wall – and, to be honest, it sort of suited his job.

It would only have been a problem if the office had been dark, but the light from his window fell perfectly upon his desk, so all was well.

Aside from the fact that he had yet to work out who this poor girl in the morgue was. Nobody had come to claim her yet, no parents, no sweetheart, no anyone. If she was one of those who, through whatever misfortune, was all alone in the world then he might never find out her identity, and that would make finding out what had happened to her and bringing the perpetrators to justice that much harder.

Or it could just be that nobody could recognise the drained and desiccated young woman on the slab. There had been young women reported missing – he had copies of all the reports from the city or round about scattered across his desk – but he couldn't be sure of which of them was the girl because her body had been so altered by…whatever it was that had happened to her that the physical descriptions were practically worthless.

Prince Eugene took a seat on the other side of Etienne's desk. "It's, um, airy, I suppose."

Etienne made a noise with the back of his throat that might have meant almost anything. "With all due respect, your highness, I have work to do. Was there something you wanted or can this wait until I get off duty?"

"Don't worry, I don't mean to trouble you for long," Eugene said, thereby revealing that it probably could have waited but Eugene didn't want it to.

Honestly, Etienne was a little surprised. He had been under the impression that Cinderella had usurped his place as Eugene's confidant – not that he was complaining in any way, it was meet and fitting that Eugene's wife should share Eugene's most intimate confidences – so why had he suddenly felt the need to come and unburden himself to Etienne? Unless he had done something to upset Cinderella (again) in which case this could get very uncomfortable.

"Is, er, is everything alright in your marriage?" Etienne asked cautiously.

"What?" Eugene demanded. "Yes, yes, everything's fine. For the most part, anyway. I think Cinderella is pushing herself a little too hard in her condition, but that's a small thing. It isn't making her ill that I can see, and everyone keeps a close eye on her."

"I see," Etienne said, concealing his sigh of relief. "Then what is the matter?" _And why are you talking to me about it instead of Cinderella?_

"It's this girl," Eugene said. "Cinderella thinks we ought to do something about her; I'm not so sure this won't go away and…even if I agreed I couldn't think what we ought to do. What do you think?"

"This is the mistress?"

"You must have an opinion," Eugene said. "Everyone else in the country seems to. They're laughing at him."

"That's a hazard when you behave laughably," Etienne said bluntly. "Now, if-"

"Don't I know it," Eugene said, interrupting Etienne before the latter could suggest that he had work to do. "But that doesn't make it easy to sit through. But this Vanessa won't stay for long, will she? I mean, we've known women like her, haven't we? Once she's amassed a certain amount of wealth or baubles she'll disappear. Won't she? Mind you, she must want a fair amount, I offered to pay her off and she just laughed."

"Perhaps she really doesn't want money?"

"Then what else could she want?" Eugene asked.

"I don't know," Etienne said. "But what I do know is that there is a dead young woman in a box in a cold cellar who has no one to speak for her but me and so…Vanessa? Did you say her name was Vanessa?"

"Didn't I tell you that already?"

"Perhaps you did and I just didn't make the connection until now," Etienne said, shifting through the papers on his desk as he searched for the right one. "A shepherdess, I'm almost certain you said that."

"Yes, that's right," Eugene said. "She lives in a hut on the moor along the Cornouaille road."

"No, she doesn't," Etienne said, lifting up the report he was looking for.

"What's that?" Eugene asked with a frown.

"A report on two missing people," Etienne said. "Roger Barere, a shepherd in the employ of one Alain Billot, and his daughter Vanessa; both went missing at the same time along with roughly a score of Monsieur Billot's sheep. Monsieur Billot being a squire living not far from the Nantes road and both the Barere's lived on his property. Naturally he was more concerned about his sheep than his employees."

Eugene leaned back in his chair. "There were about twenty sheep around her hut when I arrived, but that doesn't prove that it's the same girl. I mean, it's an unusual name but not that unusual."

"Black hair, blue eyes, tanned complexion," Etienne read off the description.

"That does sound like her," Eugene said. "Do you think she could have stolen her employer's sheep?"

"Perhaps, but even if we could prove it there'd be no point in arresting her; his majesty would just pardon her and he'd make himself look even more ridiculous," Etienne said. "Did you see any sign of her father?"

"No."

Etienne stood up. "Would you mind if I went and talked to her about this? Put it to bed once and for all."

"I thought you were interested in this girl?"

"I am," Etienne said. "But if I can put one matter to rest at least I can tell myself I'm making progress."

Etienne headed straight for the palace, the ability to act, to accomplish something - even something peripheral to the main task which he had set for himself - driving him onwards. That, and the niggling feeling at the back of his mind that this was important, the instinct that he could not explain but that he was not willing to ignore.

He arrived at the palace, where he collared the first servant he could find and asked to know the whereabouts of the King's mistress. She was with the King, as he might have expected had he thought about it for a moment, and so he waited at the base of the King's tower and sent another servant to politely request a moment of her time.

He was half-surprised that she came down to him, a part of him that he only recognised when it was proven wrong had expected her to refuse. But she descended the stairs, in looks matching exactly the physical description of the missing shepherdess, wearing a gown of crimson velvet that he vaguely remembered from somewhere, even if he couldn't place it. It was not the work of his wife, that much he knew.

Etienne pushed the question of where she had acquired the dress to one side as he noted something more interesting: how well she moved in it. She did not walk like a peasant girl newly clad in the dresses of the high; there was no uncertainty in her steps, no awkwardness in her gait. Lucrecia, though it was her passion and occupation both to create ballgowns, moved awkwardly in them when she wore them because she did so infrequently. Even Cinderella, despite the well of natural grace which she possessed, had at first walked with a touch of nervousness as though she were afraid of tripping over her full skirt and layers of petticoats. But this girl displayed none of that, rather she descended the stairs as though she had been born to such dresses, had lived with them her entire life, and she moved with a grace that the princess herself might have envied. It was strange, he might even call it inexplicable. Where could she have possibly learnt to walk like that?

"General Gerard," Vanessa said, in a smooth and cultivated voice as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "How can I help you? Have you come to apologise for your wife?"

That threw Etienne for a moment. "For what should I offer apology on her behalf, Mademoiselle?"

"Why, for insulting me," Vanessa said, as though that should have been obvious. "She was supposed to be my dress maker, you know, but she refused. Did she not tell you?"

"No, Mademoiselle, I was aware," Etienne said. "But my wife is at liberty to reject a client if she wishes, and I see no need to apologise on her behalf."

"You might change your mind about that one day," Vanessa said. "But if you are not here to apologise for the insult, why are you here? I'm afraid I can't stay long, I told Louis I'd be back soon."

"I was hoping you could tell me where your father is, Mademoiselle Barere," Etienne said. "He has not been seen since, well, since you were last seen; since you are here, I was hoping that you could tell me where he is and we can put everyone's minds at ease."

Vanessa stared at him. Was that a hint of nervousness he could see in her eyes? Certainly he fancied he could see a touch of surprise on her face. She attempted to cover it with a smile. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, general. My father died a long time ago, and my name is not Barere."

"Indeed? Then I do apologise for the confusion, Mademoiselle, and your surname is?"

"Dupont."

"I see," Etienne said. _And the fact that you look just like Vanessa Barere means nothing, I suppose._ "That is unfortunate but at least any misunderstandings have been cleared up. Good day to you, Mademoiselle. I apologise for the intrusion."

"Goodbye, general," Vanessa said. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

 _Oh, I'm not sure you do,_ Etienne thought to himself. He was leaving because he could tell there was no point asking any more questions, but that didn't mean he'd accepted the answers. Something about this smelt wrong and he didn't believe in coincidences.

He returned to his office, and gave orders to start digging up the field where he had found the dead young woman. He had a sinking feeling there were more bodies to be found.


	13. Shocking

Shocking

"How many people do you think will actually attend tonight?" Augustina wondered aloud. "I mean, considering whose party this is and the political circumstances I imagine a lot of people will find that they have better things to do."

Christine shook her head. "No, I think the opposite. Yes, everyone disapproves of all this but that's precisely why they will all turn up: curiosity will draw them. I wouldn't be surprised if the ballroom isn't fuller than ever."

"And the fact that we are without a government?"

Christine chuckled. "I wouldn't put it past my uncle to try and corner His Majesty and get the invitation tonight."

It was still the day of the fateful vote that had seen Sieur Robert thrown out of power. He had resigned that afternoon, just after lunch, but as of yet His Majesty had not sent for Lord Roux to invite him to form a government, a delay Eugene had attributed to his father's newfound disinterest in the affairs of state.

He was, however, interested in the ball to be held tonight in Vanessa's honour, her coming out into high society. It was a topic of debate between Augustina and Christine as to whether or not anyone would turn up.

For herself, Cinderella wasn't sure; nor was she sure what would be worse - worse for Vanessa, worse for His Majesty, worse for everyone. If no one came, or few did, then the King would be humiliated; but Cinderella was no stranger to the kind of misery that the aristocracy could inflict upon those they judged unworthy, and the fate of having to stand there and take their barbs without flinching wasn't something that she would wish on anyone, even someone she didn't particularly like. It would have probably been best if everyone could treat this as just another ball, but she was forced to agree with her ladies that there was small chance of that.

 _Things would be so much simpler if I could just believe she was a nice girl in an unfamiliar situation._ But Cinderella did not wish ignorance on herself, she had suffered too much from being ignorant of peoples true natures. She was glad to know the truth, even if it made things more complicated.

On the whole, as much as it was unkind of her, she supposed that she would rather Vanessa were humiliated than the King; one could even argue it was a fitting price for her impure motives in attaching herself to His Majesty.

 _Am I becoming a cruel woman?_ Cinderella wondered. _Am I changing just as my stepmother said I would?_

"Cinderella?" Marinette murmured. "Are you alright? You're being very quiet."

Cinderella looked up into Marinette's concerned face. "I'm...I hope so, Marinette, thank you for asking."

Marinette looked a little confused, but she didn't press the issue.

Cinderella got up from the stool and walked over to the bed, to look down on the dresses that Duchamp had laid out for her to choose from.

"If none of them are to your taste, ma'am, there are others," Duchamp reminded her.

Cinderella smiled. "Give me a moment, Duchamp, please; I've barely gotten started."

"If I may, your highness, I would recommend not wearing anything too..." Christine paused. "If you are seen to be enjoying yourself at the mistress' ball you will be seen to be approving of the mistress. A dour dress to indicate reluctance would suit you better."

Cinderella sighed. "I'm sure you're right, Lady Christine, and if I had any dour dresses I might even consider your advice; but unfortunately I don't believe I do, I don't think anyone ever thought I'd need one."

"Perhaps a Sunday dress, your highness."

"You can't wear a church dress to a ball," Augustina said.

"It will demonstrate that her highness does not wish to be there."

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Angelique said. "That might make sense to you but most people aren't going to think like that. They'll just wonder why she's come to a ball dressed for church."

Cinderella was inclined to agree. What Christine said about her appearing to tacitly approve of Vanessa made sense to a point, but Cinderella didn't believe that everyone would give it as much thought as Christine had.

"I wouldn't recommend dour to start with," Augustina said. "You don't need to dress in mourning black to show that you disapprove of what's going on here."

"Then how is her highness to avoid taint by association?" Christine asked.

"By demonstration," Augustina replied. "You must give her the cold shoulder, of course, but think back to what you said about what happened in the chamber. People are starting to see you differently."

"For fear of something worse," Cinderella said.

"Does that really matter?" Augustina replied. "With His Majesty's behaviour as it has been these past days - disinterested in his duties, blind to the way he is perceived, absorbed in this sordid affair - you and his highness need to show Armorique a king and queen in waiting on whom it can rely." She smiled. "So put on your fanciest frock and wear your best tiara."

The fact that Augustina's advice sounded so much better than Christine's gave Cinderella pause; did it sound better because it really was better advice or simply because it accorded more with what Cinderella wanted to do, which was to enjoy each ball as best she could as though it were her last - which it might be for a little while, you could never tell.

"Angelique, Marinette, what do you think?" she asked, trusting that their judgement would expose any errors in her own.

"I think that if you really want to show how much you don't like Vanessa then the best thing to do would be not go to the ball at all," Angelique said. "Say you're ill, everyone will believe that because your pregnant; it would even give Prince Eugene an excuse to stay away as well, he could come up here and minister to you and everyone will be in awe of what a devoted husband he is."

"Then why don't you stay away and minister to Lieutenant Taurillion?" Augustina asked, with arch amusement in her voice.

"Because I'm not finished yet," Angelique replied. "I was going to add that you'd be mad to do it; Vanessa isn't going to care, so you might as well enjoy yourself while you can."

"And besides," Marinette said. "If you stayed away, or did anything to offend Vanessa...the King might take it as an insult. I think you should dress and act the way you would if this was any other ball."

Cinderella looked to the one lady who had not spoken yet. "Drizella?"

Drizella shrugged. "You've got the most awful taste, but you always manage to look so pretty anyway. I'm not sure you could look dour even if you wanted to."

"Thank you," Cinderella said. "I think. I'm sorry Christine, but in case there isn't another ball before I become too far along for dancing, I'd rather enjoy myself if I can."

Christine bowed her hand. "Your highness may do as she pleases."

Cinderella turned back to the dresses on the bed. "Now-"

There was a knock at the door.

Cinderella - slightly absurdly, she could admit - looked around the room as though there was someone missing. She became rather conscious of the fact that she was wearing nothing but a slip of silver silk, which left her legs bare and much else beside. She hadn't even put on most of her undergarments yet, and that wasn't a state in which she wanted just anyone to see her in. "Who is it?"

"It's Vanessa, your highness; can I come in?"

Cinderella threw on her dressing gown - it was blue and fluffy and embroidered with little pink flowers - before she retreated out of direct view of the doorway and said, "Come in."

Vanessa strode in, shutting the door behind her with a little more force than was strictly necessary. She looked at each of Cinderella's ladies in turn.

"Well, don't I feel like the lost lamb that wandered into the den of wolves?" she asked, as a smirk crossed her face. She looked at Cinderella, in her dressing gown. "Your highness, you're getting ready early I see."

Cinderella smiled, even as she bowed her head in embarrassment. "It can take me a while."

"Of course, you have so much to choose from after all," Vanessa said. She stalked across the room, and rested the lithe fingers of one hand on Cinderella's dressing table. "I'm afraid I'm here to take some of your choice away."

"What do you mean?" Cinderella asked.

Vanessa giggled - what was so familiar about that sound - before she said, "Come, your highness, you're not the only girl in the palace any more; surely you can't think it's right that you should have everything while I have nothing at all." Her hand began to drift idly towards the red velvet jewellery box.

"Her highness is the princess of this country and you're a glorified bed-warmer," Christine said. "The current distribution is perfectly fair."

Vanessa stared at her. "I don't believe we've had the dubious pleasure."

"Lady Christine Roux," Christine said.

"That was a little rude of you, Christine, don't you think?"

"I can't be rude," Christine replied. "I'm a duke's daughter."

"Meaning that all that you have comes from your father," Vanessa said, with scorn in her voice.

"Everything comes from somewhere else," Christine said, sounding supremely unconcerned by Vanessa's attempt to insult her.

"Indeed," Vanessa murmured, as she rounded upon Cinderella once more. "And my everything comes from His Majesty the King, who has commanded that I may take from your jewellery box, so that I am not embarrassed at the ball tonight."

"It will take more than that to spare you embarrassment," Augustina muttered.

Vanessa didn't respond to that. Her attention was wholly upon Cinderella. "You wouldn't want to refuse His Majesty would you, your highness?"

"Of course not," Cinderella said. She crossed the few steps separating her from the dressing table - out of the corner of her eye she could see both hers and Vanessa's reflections in the vanity mirror - and opened up the red velvet box. "What would you like?"

What Vanessa liked best, it seemed, were diamonds: thick diamond bracelets, many-layered diamond necklaces, diamond cluster earrings. She showed little interest in sapphires, and none at all in pearls...until as she was rooting around with her slender fingers she came across Cinderella's wedding necklace, the sapphire heart set in the string of pearls.

Vanessa's blue eyes gleamed with something Cinderella couldn't name. "Oh, look at this, isn't it lovely? I think I've seen you wearing this."

"It's one of my favourites," Cinderella said. "It-"

"Yes, I can imagine," Vanessa said, adding it to her pile.

Cinderella delicately reached out for it. "Um, I'm afraid I can't let you have that, Mademoiselle-"

Vanessa slapped her hand away impatiently. "His Majesty said I could take."

"Yes, but that was a gift from Prince Eugene-"

"So?" Vanessa demanded. "Everything here was a gift from Prince Eugene!"

"Well, yes, of course," Cinderella acknowledged. "But that was a gift to me before we were married, he gave it to me to wear on our wedding day. I, I'm sure there are other pieces in here that you'd prefer."

"Maybe, but I want this one."

"Please, Vanessa, it's so precious to me-"

"Don't be so greedy!" Vanessa snapped, giving Cinderella a sharp shove with one hand.

Cinderella gasped as she staggered backwards, her gasp turning into a brief cry of alarm as she tripped on one of the legs of the stool beside her. She landed on her bottom, hitting the wooden floorboard with a thump and a wince of pain. The overturned stool landed on her leg with a clatter, making Cinderella wince again.

And then there was silence in the bedchamber. The ladies-in-waiting stared at Vanessa as though they couldn't believe what she had done. Angelique's face darkened, and grew darker still as Christine put a restraining hand upon her shoulder. Even Drizella looked surprised.

Cinderella stared up at Vanessa, eyes wide with astonishment...and fear. She felt as though she were nine years old again, when Anastasia and Drizella had pushed her into a pond and then made her lie to her father about it, telling him she'd fallen in due to her own carelessness. She felt as though she were ten and about to get spanking from her stepmother. She felt as though she were a little girl again, and vulnerable in the face of strength wielded against her.

 _I'm not a frightened little girl any more. I'm not. I'm not trapped and I'm not scared and I'm not alone._

But Vanessa looked so cold as she stared down upon Cinderella from on high, that it was becoming a little hard to believe it.

"Here," Vanessa said. "Keep it, if it means that much to you." She threw the necklace at Cinderella, narrowly missing her. It clattered as it bounced towards the balcony.

Vanessa scooped up her takings, and swept towards the door. Christine's grip on Angelique tightened as Vanesssa passed the two of them.

"Not particularly long ago someone like you would have lost the hand that touched a princess in such a fashion," Christine observed.

Vanessa snorted. "Then I suppose I should be glad that the times are more enlightened now."

"Quite," Christine said. "But His Highness will hear of this, have no doubt. And His Majesty too."

Vanessa chuckled. "Let me give you some advice, Christine-"

"Lady Christine."

"As you like, but for a threat to have any impact I'm afraid it has to be frightening," Vanessa said.

It was at this point that Angelique wrenched herself out of Christine's grip and placed herself squarely before the door.

Vanessa looked down on her. "Move."

"Why don't you try and push me out of the way and see what happens next?" Angelique growled.

"Angelique," Cinderella's voice was soft, it trembled just a little. "That's quite enough."

"It's what?"

"Move aside for her," Cinderella murmured. "Please."

"Yes," Vanessa said. "Move aside, there's a good dog."

Angelique bared her teeth, but she stepped aside.

Vanessa left without another word.

"Your highness!" Marinette cried as the door closed, rushing over to offer Cinderella a hand up. "Are you alright? Should we send for the doctor?"

"I...I think I'm alright," Cinderella said, as she allowed Marinette to help her to her feet. "But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to..." her free hand drifted over her belly. "Yes, please send for the doctor if he can spare the time to see me."

"You should have let me beat the tar out of her," Angelique muttered. "I could have, you know, even if she is bigger than me."

"I don't think that's really appropriate," Cinderella replied mildly. "And I'd hate to see you get in trouble over something like this."

"If the next words out of your mouth are 'I'm sure she didn't meant it' or 'She couldn't have known I'd trip on that stool' then I swear-"

"No, Angelique, I'm not going to say either of those things," Cinderella said. "I probably should but...the way that she looked at me, it frightened me...I can't bring myself to believe either of those things."

"You must tell his highness," Christine said. "Such behaviour is absolutely unacceptable."

"If...if you don't," Marinette murmured. "I'm afraid I will. I know that we talked about this but-"

"But your absolutely right this time," Cinderella said. "I am going to tell Eugene." There were certain things that she could manage on her own, and didn't believe he needed to know about; but this was something that he would want to know about, and she could hardly demanded honesty from him without in return being honest. And besides...as much as it didn't make any sense the fear she'd felt looking up at Vanessa...she needed to tell Eugene so that she didn't feel as scared.

 _I'm not trapped and I'm not scared and I'm not alone._

The doctor was summoned. But, before he could arrive, the very act of Cinderella sending for him brought Eugene running up the stairs - Cinderella could hear his feet pounding - to burst into the room without knocking. "What's wrong? Why has the doctor been sent for?"

"Please come in," Cinderella murmured from where she sat on her bed.

Eugene was clearly in no mood for games. He stood over her, his face contorted with the agony of anxiety. "Cinderella, what's happened, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, I hope," Cinderella said. "We, I just felt it was best to be sure."

"Sure of what?" Eugene demanded. He sat down on the bed beside her, reaching for her hands. "Please, something must have happened, tell me."

Cinderella looked away. "Vanessa and I got into an argument over a necklace. Silly, really, but at the time...she pushed me, I tripped and fell. I'm sure it's nothing but-"

The rest of her words were cut off as Eugene enfolded her in his arms, hugging her tight so that her head was resting against his chest. She could feel his jawline on the top her head. "Cinderella," he whispered. "I...that bloody woman, how dare she?"

Cinderella let out a breath she hadn't even known that she was holding. She wasn't a lonely little girl any more. She had a husband and friends who loved her and who would protect her. She closed her eyes and let him hold her tight and close.

"Your highnesses," Christine said, reminding Cinderella that she and Eugene were not alone. Not that she felt embarrassed at all about her behaviour, and certainly she made no move to end his embrace of her. "This girl must be sent away; if she is not it will demonstrate a staggering lack of respect for the princess on the part of His Majesty."

"Of course," Eugene said. "I'll talk to him...but not until the doctor has declared that everything is fine."

The doctor arrived and, in due course, pronounced that everything was fine. He discoursed upon the fact that the unborn child was much hardier that it was often given credit for and - seeming blind to Eugene's growing exasperation - theorised that the human instinct to protect its offspring led to this misconception."

"So the baby is unharmed?" Eugene demanded.

"Indeed, your highness, the risk of miscarriage from such a minor bump is very small," the doctor said. "That said, if you have any concerns of course send for me and I will come at once. Good day, your highnesses."

The doctor departed, and Eugene kissed Cinderella on the forehead. "Thank God," he said.

Cinderella nodded. If something had happened...best not to think about what had not come to pass. "I should probably start to get ready...unless you think there'll be no ball now?"

"I would rather celebrate her going than her being here," Eugene growled. "If you feel able to, then get ready. I'll speak to my father now, and hopefully we'll have better reason to celebrate."

He left, and with him went most of Cinderella's ladies, leaving her so that she could dress and get ready without everybody crowding the bedroom. Angelique was the last one out, but as she was about to go there was a cough from the doorway leading into the sitting room.

It was Oscar, looking slightly timorous as she said, "Um, er, begging your princesses pardon...I mean your highness, um, Lady Angelique, can I have a word, I mean can I speak with you in...in here."

Angelique glanced at Cinderella, who nodded.

"Yes, of course," Angelique murmured, looking a little confused as she joined Oscar and Penny in the sitting room. They shut the door behind them.

Cinderella idly wondered what it was about as she went back to choosing a dress to wear.

* * *

Angelique shut the door behind her. "What's this about?" she asked, her voice betraying a touch of impatience. She...honestly, she couldn't say that she was particularly fond of Oscar. Jean had known her long than he'd known Angelique and, well, she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel a little...jealous. It wasn't something she was particularly proud of, but there it was. Did she have anything to actually be jealous about? Probably not, but that wasn't how jealousy worked, was it?

Oscar smirked. "What's the matter, Angel, are you in hurry to paint your eyes or something?"

Angelique's stare was flat and hard. "Don't call me that."

"What?"

"Angel," Angelique said sharply. She'd never liked to be called that, not even by Jean; she wasn't anyone's idea of an angel. "Look if this isn't important-"

"It is important," Oscar said. "So long as taking care of that woman matters to you like I think it does. Look, I've got no idea how to talk to Princess Purity in there, I don't know how to talk to princesses at all, but no matter how many fancy clothes or titles you've got now you're still the Angel Eyes that I remember so I can talk to you about this. I hope."

Angelique looked from Oscar to Penny. "Okay. Yes, it is important to do something about Vanessa. Maybe she'll get thrown out for what she did but if not...I don't ever want it to happen again. So...start talking."

"That's her, isn't it?" Penny asked. "The one you've been talking about, the one we've heard you talking about when you forget we have ears."

"Nobody forgets that you have ears," Angelique said. "We just don't mind you being able to hear. Cinderella isn't the kind of person who worries about being overheard."

"But that is her?" Penny asked. "That's the shepherdess."

"Yes, that's her. Vanessa."

Penny snorted.

"What?"

Oscar shook her head. "You've been a fancy lady too long."

Angelique folded her arms across her chest. "Meaning?"

"Meaning if that woman is a poor country girl, if that woman has ever been poor at all I'll eat these shoes of mine," Oscar declared. "And you've been here too long not to spot that. When you're poor like us you don't talk to the quality like that! You don't go shoving them around like that! Whether she meant for the princess to fall over or not don't matter because you don't push in the first place, or if you do then you turn and run the moment you've done it before they yell for the constables at the top of their voice. Are we supposed to believe that she was as poor as us a couple of weeks ago?"

Angelique frowned. What Oscar said made a lot of sense, and to be honest she felt a little stupid for not working it out herself. _I'm not the girl I used to be, clearly._ "Maybe the country is different?"

"The rich are the same wherever they go," Oscar said scornfully. "And that means the poor are the same too. Last month, the princess could have had woman tied to a tree and flogged but you wouldn't know it from the way she acts, would you?"

"Cinderella wouldn't do that, even to someone who deserved it."

"Maybe not, but you know as well as I do that when you're dealing with the quality you don't take a chance that you're in front of one of the good ones," Oscar replied. "And when one of them says something like 'you ought to have your hand cut off' you don't laugh it off or say 'well, I'm glad you can't' because you know that if they really wanted to they could and they'd get away with it because they've got the money and the name and the power and no judge is going to take your side against them. That's what it means to be poor, to be at their mercy all the time, that's why I'm here. That's why I'm talking to you, because however nice this princess of kindness is I still get a sweat when she looks at me!"

"Vanessa don't act right," Penny said. "The way she walks, the way she talks, she's someone who takes what she wants because no one ever tells her no. She's one of them."

Angelique sat down on one of the settees. What Oscar said made sense, even if it didn't. "But...she lived in a hut in a field somewhere. The prince found her there in the big storm."

"I once spent a month living in the west wing of some big fancy townhouse," Oscar said. "The owners to had gone to Greece so I broke in through the window and slept in the library until the old caretaker found me and I had to run for it. Doesn't mean it was my house."

"Why would you pretend to be a shepherdess if you weren't?"

"I don't know, I just know what I can see and hear with my eyes and ears and I'm seeing one of them, not one of us."

Angelique scowled. Oscar was right. Or if she wasn't right she made a convincing argument for why she ought to be right. _I have been here too long, that's why I didn't see it myself._ She had spent so long amongst aristocrats, people who moved through the world like they owned it because they did - or at least their father did - people who acted like they'd never heard the word no before because they hadn't; she'd forgotten there were other kinds of people, who didn't behave that way. Angelique thought about the way that Cinderella had behaved when she'd first met her; she thought it wasn't until the whole business with Philippe had been settled that Cinderella had stopped worrying that her husband was going to get fed up with her and get rid of her somehow. Angelique herself...she'd never worried about it, exactly, but she'd been very aware in those early days just how painfully dependent she and Jean had been on Cinderella's good graces, and that if anything had happened to Cinderella they would have been disposed of immediately. But Vanessa...she didn't act like a girl living on sufferance, she didn't act like someone who had been incredibly lucky and was wondering when her luck would run out. On the face of it, to say that Vanessa's position was precarious was to give her too much credit: the King enjoyed her, for now, and the moment he got bored then she'd be back in the field with the sheep. Why, then, did Vanessa feel free to walk around like she owned the place, to talk so boldly, to physically attack the princess like that? It didn't make any sense.

But...what did that mean? What would make sense? What was going on? Clearly something was going on, because...well, because if something was wrong there was usually a reason for it, wasn't there? But what? What was going on, and if Vanessa wasn't the shepherdess she claimed to be...who was she?

She glanced up at Oscar. "Thanks, for reminding me of that."

"No problem," Oscar muttered. She grinned. "You know, if you want to we could always rough her up tonight when there's no one to see. The princess doesn't have to know."

Angelique snorted. "Tempting, but I don't like lying to her."

"Why not?"

"Because she doesn't like to be lied to."

"It's not lying, it's more of a secret."

"She doesn't like those either."

Oscar huffed. "Not a lot of fun, is she? Are you going to tell her?"

"No," Angelique said.

"I thought she didn't like secrets?"

"She doesn't, but this isn't a secret," Angelique said. "This is a theory with no proof. I can't tell her that I don't think Vanessa behaves the right way, and even if I did what would Cinderella do about it?"

"What are you going to do about it?" Oscar asked.

"I..." Angelique stopped. Her eyes narrowed a little. "Would you two mind stepping into the boudoir for a moment and shutting the boudoir."

"Okay," Penny said. "Does anyone ever actually go in there normally?"

Angelique thought about it. "You know what, I don't think they do. Everything happens here or in the bedroom."

With Oscar and Penny safely two rooms away, with closed doors between them preventing from seeing Angelique behaving like a mad woman, she got down on her hands and knees until she found the mousehole in the wall.

"Jaq," she hissed. "Hey, Jaq! Gus! Anyone?"

"Heya there, Angelicky!" Gus called cheerily as he waddled out.

"Hey, Gus," Angelique said. "Is, um, is Jaq around?"

"Hesa getting something to eat," Gus said.

"Right," Angelique murmured. That was not ideal. Gus was...well, he was perfectly nice, but he wasn't the brightest mouse. Far from it, to be honest. She wasn't sure that she could explain to him what she wanted in a way that he would understand and be able to explain to the others. "Is anyone else around? Suzy? Perla?"

"I'm here, Angelicky," Suzy said, holding up her skirt as she emerged from the hole. "What's up?"

Angelique mostly retrained her sigh of relief. "Listen, both of you, I need your help. Cinderella needs your help."

"Cinderelly in some kind of trouble? Something happen to baby?"

"No, nothing happened to the baby, not...not while I'm around," said Angelique, trying to sound resolute. "But there's a new woman in the palace, a woman named Vanessa. It might not matter after tonight but I'm worried she's bad news."

"Whydya think that, huh?" Gus asked.

"Because she shoved Cinderella to the ground today and I don't think that's the act of a good person, do you?"

"What? He can't do that to Cinderelly, why I oughta-"

"You oughta quiet down and listen to what Angelicky trying to say," Suzy said. "What do you want, Angelicky?"

"I'd like you to spy on her," Angelique said. "Her name is Vanessa. She's got black hair and blue eyes and her room is in the King's Tower somewhere. Just...if you see or hear anything unusual come and tell me, okay?"

Suzy's face was earnest as she nodded her head. "We understand. We don't want Cinderelly to get hurt again."

"No," Angelique agreed. "No, we don't."

* * *

Eugene took the steps two at a time, climbing with long, almost loping steps towards his father's bedchamber, to which he had been directed by the equerries. A part of him wondered what uncomfortable sight he might find there, but he needed to do this now. This had gone on long enough and now...a fire was in him now, burning in his blood. He had never liked the prospect of this woman but while she was only making a fool of his father he had been willing to bear it until his father came to his senses but not now. Now she had gone too far.

He reached his father's bedchamber and hammered on the door with a closed fist.

"What...who is it?" his father's response sounded drowsy, as if Eugene had just roused him from sleep.

"Eugene."

"Oh...come in, then," came the still-somnolent sounding reply.

Eugene threw open the door so hard it slammed against the wall with a loud thump. As he strode inside he saw that Vanessa was there, and sitting on a wicker chair while his father sat on the floor in front of her. Thankfully they were both dressed.

Vanessa got to her feet with a smile which he could not now see as anything but smarmy in the extreme. "I should go and get ready; I will leave you to-"

"No," Eugene said. "It's best if you remain mademoiselle, for now at least."

His father started to rise. "Eugene, I don't think I like your tone-"

"Did you," Eugene said, speaking to Vanessa still. "Or did you not shove my wife to the floor?"

Vanessa didn't even flinch. "I did not," she said. "I pushed her, true, but it was her own clumsiness that caused her to fall not my intention."

"A fine hair to split, don't you think?" Eugene demanded acidly. "You don't deny pushing the princess?"

"Is she so delicate that the merest forceful touch might shatter her?" Vanessa asked. "Is she so precious that no mortal hand can be allowed to sully her?"

"She is my wife, the future mother of my child and yes, she is so precious to me that I will not stand by while you assault-"

"Your wife was being a selfish, greedy little brat in defiance of the King's command," Vanessa shouted. "She should be thankful that for her insolence-"

"Who in God's name are you to speak of insolence you-"

"Eugene!" his father roared. "Silence, both of you, your bickering wearies my ears."

Eugene's jaw tightened. "Send her away, father," he said. "Send her away or the dignity of the crown means nothing."

"I will not do so simply on your word," his father said, his words falling from his lips with the weight of lead. "It is for me, not you, to concern myself with the dignity of the crown. Now, Vanessa, my sweet, my darling, my precious, what is all this? What does my troublesome son speak of?"

Vanessa chuckled as she cupped the King's cheeks with her hands and kissed him on the forehead. "I did as your majesty commanded, and with your permission went to take some small number of adornments from the princess' overladen box of jewellery. She, being thoroughly selfish and self-centred, sought to deny me; I had to push her out of the way to take what was rightfully mine."

"That isn't how Cinderella told it," Eugene said.

"Then she lies."

"Father, you cannot believe this!" Eugene protested. "You know Cinderella, you know that-"

"I know that you spoil and indulge that girl far too much, Eugene," his father said. "It's high time she learned her place."

Eugene was frozen. He stood staring in disbelief. This...how was this his father? How was this the man who had always indulged Cinderella himself, and with such paternal fondness, now complaining that she was spoiled? How was this his father now taking the side of this woman over his son and daughter-in-law? How was this his father so transformed by...by her?

"What have you done to him?" he whispered.

Butter would not have melted in Vanessa's mouth. "I make your father happy," she said. "Is that not what you desire."

"I will not send away my comfort," the King declared. "Not for your wife and her tiresome whims. With Vanessa's help I see many things clearly now. I see how I have been a fool and how I may be wiser."

 _By turning away from the girl who loves you like a father in favour of this gold-digger?_ "Is there nothing I can say that will persuade you?"

"Nothing," said his father. "Leave me now, while I permit it; I no longer wish to be disturbed."

 _This girl must be sent away; if she is not it will demonstrate a staggering lack of respect for the princess on the part of His Majesty._ Lady Christine Roux's words returned to him. At the time he had not thought it possible for his father to so disrespect the girl he had doted on as a daughter, but now...it seemed he was gravely mistaken.

 _Cinderella had clearer sight in this than I did; she might not have known what but her concerns have been justified, while my insouciance stands rebuked._ He bowed his head. "Your majesty," he said softly, as he backed out of the room.

Eugene shut the door. Almost immediately he could hear his father and Vanessa giggling on the other side.

His face was set in a scowl as he turned away.

 _How do I tell Cinderella that the love her father-in-law once bore her has turned to ashes?_

* * *

Cinderella armoured herself in silk and satin and sparkling jewels.

Sieur Robert had called her a knight, and if that was so then her armour was the gown of white in which she was enrobed, with its full skirt and silver bustle and oversized puffed shoulders. It was the long gloves that enclosed her arms, it was the silver hairband that glistened in her strawberry hair, it was the large diamonds that covered her ears, it was the bracelets of diamonds and sapphires that climbed up her arms, it was the necklaces of diamond, sapphire and pearl that embraced her throat and hung from her neck dangling towards her breasts. It was the twin roses, red and white, woven into her hair; it was the sparkling tiara set on her head. It was the blush on her cheeks, the shadow above her eyes, the dark pink colour in which her lips were painted.

This was her shining armour, and if it would not physically ward off blows it at least made her feel braver. She could put aside the girl Cinderella and become the princess. The queen in waiting that Augustina claimed they needed to see.

"How do I look, Duchamp?" Cinderella asked, as she stood in front of the mirror with her hands - rings sparkling on her slender fingers - clasped together in front of her. "Do I look like a queen in waiting?"

Duchamp was silent for a moment. "No, ma'am," she said softly. "But you do look like a most excellent princess."

Cinderella nodded. "Good," she said, in equal softness. "I don't want to be queen, Duchamp. I want His Majesty to live, to dandle his grandchild on his knee and teach them all about this family. I want a family, that's what I've always wanted." She closed her eyes, if she started crying then Duchamp would have to do her makeup all over again and that would be very unfair to her.

She felt Duchamp's hand upon her arm, resting in that small gap between her shoulders and her gloves where the skin of Cinderella's arms could still be seen, where she could still feel the touch of a hand unmediated by a layer of silk. "I wish that I could give you some advice, ma'am, to make this easier, but...this is as new to me as it is to you. To take up with...I have known His Majesty to behave this way."

"Do you think she'll be gone?" Cinderella asked.

"I don't know, ma'am," Duchamp admitted. "Ordinarily she would not be here to begin with."

"She shouldn't frighten me the way she does, but...what do I do if she is still here? She'll hate me for telling tales on her, won't she?"

"I...I would not have you alone with her, ma'am," Duchamp said. "Not until you know what malice she bears you."

"Nor would I," Eugene said, as he walked in. Despite the troubled look in his eyes, he tried to smile at her. "You look as beautiful as ever," he said. "I wish it were a better night for you to shine in."

Cinderella turned, and took a step towards him...and then she remembered that the last time he had embraced her while she was wearing a tiara it had nearly poked him in the eye, and so she gently removed the sparkling crown from atop her head and set it down upon the table. Only then did she left up her skirt and go to him. He hugged her, squeezing her gently as he kissed her atop the head, and then he titled her chin upwards as he bent down to kiss her longingly upon the lips.

"He will not be rid of her," he admitted.

Cinderella bowed her head. "I see."

"He...my father...I'm afraid he may not be as kind to you as you are used to," Eugene said, all affection flying from his voice to leave him sounding thoroughly miserable. "She has bewitched him, hard as that might be for me to comprehend. She's pretty enough, but I wouldn't have thought Helen of Troy could have such an effect on him."

"So what happens now?" Cinderella asked. "What do we do? What can we do?"

"I don't know," Eugene said. "But you were right and I was wrong, we must do something. That she is able to twist his mind like this...it isn't right." He kissed her again. "But I'm afraid there's nothing we can do tonight except brazen it out. Don't worry, I won't let her touch you."

She allowed him to embrace her again, feeling the reassurance of his grip upon her, before she retrieved her tiara and set it once more in her hair; and then Cinderella slipped her hand into his arm and allowed him to lead her down towards the ballroom.

Vanessa and the King were waiting for them at the ballroom doors, or at least they were there when Cinderella and Eugene arrived.

His Majesty huffed at the sight of them both. "I am not at all pleased to learn of your conduct, girl," he said. "See that you mind your manners better in future."

Cinderella curtsied. "I'll try your majesty."

Vanessa bent down to whisper something in his ear that made the King guffaw with laughter, and although Cinderella couldn't be sure that the laughter was aimed at her she had the uncomfortable suspicion that it was.

Vanessa left His Majesty a moment, and sauntered over. She was wearing red, a gown of flaming taffeta with long white glovers that were a mirror of Cinderella's own. Every diamond she had taken from Cinderella's jewellery box sparkled on her arms or around her neck or dangled from her ears. She moved with a feline grace, like a lioness striding across the plains; the smile on her face was almost lupine in the number of teeth that it displayed.

"That's close enough," Eugene said.

Vanessa chuckled. "Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?" she asked. "Did you think you could just snap your fingers and I would be gone? You may live in the Queen's bedchamber but you are not the queen of the castle. I'm here to remind you of that."

"Why?" Cinderella asked. "Why are you behaving in this way? What have I done to you? I don't understand, you saved my life, you seemed so kind...why?"

"I've been kind once, it didn't get me anywhere," Vanessa replied. She half turned away, presenting her side to Cinderella as he looked towards the doors. "My first ball," she murmured. "My big debut. I'll walk in there upon the arm of the King of Armorique. You know I've dreamed of this momemt. My whole life I've dreamed of it. Only...only in my dreams every face is smiling. In my dreams they cheer my name. In my dreams...I can pick out the faces of those who love me in the crowd." Were there tears in her eyes? Cinderella thought that she could see them glistening. But then Vanessa blinked and they were gone. "None will cheer me now. I'm all alone, and my face is hidden behind a mask."

 _The mask has slipped just a little,_ Cinderella thought, catching a glimpse of the real Vanessa beneath. And yet...it still didn't explain why she did this. Had she practiced to be kind she could have won the smiles and cheers she seemed to want.

 _Or could she? It took someone they liked less than me for people to start changing their mind about me, and how could that happen for Vanessa?_

 _All the same, it would have to be better than behaving as she does, wouldn't it?_

"This court is a pit of hypocrisy," Vanessa said, her voice hardening. "They hate me because I am a reflection of the shadows that they try to hide. I am a monument to all their sins."

"Vanessa, my love," the King called. "It is time."

A smirk crossed Vanessa's lips. "Wish me luck," she said, as she returned to the King's side, and took his arm.

The doors were opened and the light spilled out of the ballroom.

* * *

In all of the almost-a-year by now that that she had been at the palace Cinderella had never failed to enjoy a that she had attended with Eugene; perhaps she had not always enjoyed every single moment, but she had never had a completely miserable time and she had no intention of starting now. As much as this was Vanessa's evening, Cinderella was determined not to let Vanessa rob her of all joy. She was here, and Eugene was here, and the music was playing; what was Vanessa compared to that.

It helped that Vanessa kept out of their way. In fact once they were in the ballroom and the first dance played Vanessa seemed to take no interest in anyone but His Majesty, who with a grace and agility that was somewhat surprising led her about the floor. Vanessa's grace matched his own, she danced so beautifully that even Cinderella appeared flat-footed in comparison - and that with Eugene as a partner! - and put every other lady on the ballroom floor to shame. And as they danced she smiled so widely and so brightly that Cinderella was left, not for the first time and probably not for the last either, to wish that they could have been friends so that she could have taken joy in this moment as it cried out to be taken joy in: to see His Majesty happy with a girl who was equally blissful in his company. Alas, that it was not to be.

Thanks to the corrections to Cinderella's diet, she was no longer so anaemic that a mere two dances without a break left her exhausted, but nevertheless Eugene insisted upon fairly frequent rests; he made up for it however by never leaving her side, he refused all other offers to dance with any other young lady until they ceased to approach him altogether. He stayed with Cinderella, one arm around her waist, at every moment as the night wound on.

Which meant of course that he was beside her as Cinderella was approached by many ladies and gentlemen of the court; unlike the young ladies who sought dances with Eugene before giving up in frustration, these people approached the prince and princess together, husbands and wives each in their own partnerships. They had warm words for both of them, and after the first people to approach Cinderella noticed that they all made a point of mentioning Cinderella's father and how he was a gentleman, a noble scion. One person even shared a small recollection of him, for which Cinderella thanked him quietly, while another knelt before her and kissed her belly as though the child growing within would feel it.

It took, perhaps, a little longer than it should have for Cinderella to understand: this was their way of making amends without actually needing either to apologise for their behaviour or change the attitudes that had led them to resent and scorn her. These were, she had no doubt, the very same people who had looked upon her with such distaste, mocked her, offered her polite insults because she was a servant girl and thus unfit to be a prince's bride now, when faced with a shepherdess in the King's bed, they remembered that her father had been a gentlemen and doubtless told themselves that Cinderella had always been one of them after all.

In some cases they were exactly the same people who had tormented Cinderella not long before: Hortense Villeneuve, who had once asked Cinderella if she had intended to keep the palace clean, took her warmly by the hands and wished her well; Theodora de la Tour, who had once trapped Cinderella inside a wardrobe and listened with malicious glee as she shrieked and screamed and begged to be let out, praised her as a paragon of a consort.

It was a little disgusting.

"I'm afraid I feel a bit ill," Cinderella murmured.

"Do you want me to take you back to your room?" Eugene asked.

It took Cinderella a moment to realise that he had taken her literally. "No, I didn't mean...all of these people; I haven't changed, but now that there's somebody they dislike more than me they're falling over themselves to show how devoted they are. It's...it's hypocrisy, just like she said."

"Take what you can get, darling," Eugene said. "False love is better than honest disdain."

Cinderella wasn't sure that he was right, especially since false love could be hard to distinguish from the real thing until you trod upon it and the false affection gave way beneath you, but she didn't argue.

Not all who came to see them came alone, some were brought by Augustina and some by Christine, who respectively introduced those they had brought as though this were a much more formal setting than it was. Those whom Augustina ushered forwards tended to be like her: ladies and gentlemen but without titles, country squires with estates wealthy but modest by the standards of the greatest. Those whom Christine named tended to be the greatest, the ennobled lords and ladies of the realm, heads of proud houses of distinguished lineage.

 _The supporters of their parties, trying to woo us,_ Cinderella thought. She was perfectly polite to all but promised nothing to either.

As the night wore on, after Cinderella and Eugene had shared three dances in a row, Frederica drifted over to them. "I heard that you were the victim of a vicious assault."

"Who told you that?" Cinderella asked.

"Christine Roux is telling everyone who'll listen, and those that won't are listening to Augustina de Bois," Frederica said. "The word 'disgrace' features frequently."

Cinderella glanced at Eugene. "Do you think I should tell them to stop?"

"It's a little late for that now," Frederica said. "Besides, I think they're trying to do their best for you. Did that woman really strike you?"

"She pushed me," Cinderella said. "And I ended up on the floor."

Frederica's expression was cold. "You know, it may have fallen out of fashion here in Armorique but my father has had many mistresses since my mother died. Most don't last long, but he enjoys them while they do. When I was thirteen one of them slapped me. My father had her flogged, and he had me watch it too so that I understood what my dignity as his daughter was worth. By insulting me she had insulted him as well, and he could not abide to be insulted."

Cinderella shuddered. "Your father...he..."

"Is not a nice man, indeed," Frederica said. "All the same...in that instance he was right, as in this case your dear King is utterly wrong. You're garnering sympathy, or rather your ladies are garnering it on your behalf, but the idea that His Majesty has any shred of respect or even affection for you has been utterly destroyed."

Cinderella sighed and bowed her head. "Can it ever be revived?"

"Perhaps," Frederica said. "But he would have to repudiate the mistress first, and at the moment that seems unlikely."

"Has there been any reply from your father yet regarding Hispaniola?" Eugene asked.

"No," Frederica replied.

"And the vote today?" Cinderella said, thankful to be able to talk about something else. "Will it change anything?"

"Hopefully not, provided nothing comes of it," Frederica said. "Although...I admit that I sometimes curate the news I send home to Normandie, but I don't know if my father has other eyes and ears here. I cannot omit too much. This fall of the government, combined with this business...if my father believes that you are losing influence then he will look with more wariness upon your brainchild; that goes for both of you, by the way. Get your king under control, and remember that the domestic audience isn't the only one you have to worry about."

"Attention!" boomed His Majesty, as the music ceased abruptly. "Attention ladies and gentlemen, loyal friends one and all, your attention."

All dancing and all conversation ceased, as all attention throughout the ballroom turned towards His Majesty. He stood in the very centre of the room, with Vanessa by his side. All others gave them a wide berth, creating a circular emptiness surrounding them.

"You have all come," His Majesty said, for Christine had been proved right when he said that curiosity would draw the crowds. "To honour the lovey and delightful Vanessa who, though I have known her but a little while, has already demonstrated that she is my soulmate, the other half of myself that I have long been seeking."

Eugene made a sort of strangled noise as though he were about to choke on his apoplexy.

The King glanced up at Vanessa with a fond, doting smile.

"Here is a maid both fair and virtuous," he said. "Here is a maid who is wise, who knows when to speak and when to keep silent. Here is a maid well suited to the court, who unlike some fully deserves her place within these lofty, ancient halls."

It was impossible for Cinderella not to feel that some criticism of her was intended by those words, and judging by the way his grip on her tightened it seemed Eugene felt the same way. _What have I done to offend you, your majesty?_ Cinderella wanted to ask. _Tell me what I've done wrong so that I can make it right._

"Yet some of you do not approve," the King continued, sounding as though he couldn't quite believe it. "Some of you do not like the mistress that I have chosen, some of you simply do not like that I have chosen a mistress. You have not been quiet in your mutterings. But I, your King, have heard all your concerns, and this very night I will address them. For my friends, I tell you that you have come here tonight until false pretences. You are not here to celebrate a debut, or not that only; you are here to celebrate an engagement!"

"Oh please God no," Eugene muttered as murmurings and whisperings ran around the ballroom.

The King turned to Vanessa and descended to one knee as he produced a diamond ring from out of his pocket.

"Vanessa," he said, his voice love-struck in its tenderness. "Sweet Vanessa, dear Vanessa, fair Vanessa, fairer than the word of wondrous virtues Vanessa, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife and queen?"

Silence reigned over even the King himself. All Armorique held its breath.

Vanessa cast her eyes across the entire assembly, her face set in a triumphant smile. That smile, that almost smirking smile of utter victory, seemed to grow even wider when her gaze locked with that of Cinderella.

"With all my heart," Vanessa murmured. "I will."

The King slipped the ring onto her finger.


	14. Plan and Response

Plan and Response

Grace laughed softly as she threw herself into a gilded chair beside the King's bed. "I think that went very well, don't you, Louis?"

The King mumbled something indistinct as he crawled onto the top of his palatial bed. He didn't even bother to get undressed. "Yes, very well, my sweet."

Grace smiled. "Now we must swiftly wed so that I can get to work." She leaned across to whisper into his ear. "I will give you a son, my king; a son brave and strong and worthy to succeed you on the throne. I will be your queen and give you such a line of kings as the world has never seen before."

The King blinked dozily. "Give me...but I have a son, a-"

"A son who plots against you, a son who does not love you, a son who has forsaken his father for his wife," Grace hissed. "Do you really want to give the crown to such a son? Or have him take it from you?"

The King hesitated. His will and mind warred with the magic of Grace's spell; the part of him that was yet his own, the part of him that trusted his son and loved Cinderella contested with the part of him that was so enthralled by Vanessa that be would believe anything she said.

"Is it your name the people shout in the street?" Grace asked. "No, it is Cinderella that they cheer for. All the lords and commons, or almost all, are with Cinderella and Eugene, not you. Even in your own palace your officers and servants have more love for the princess than they do for their rightful and anointed king. You know it to be true."

The best lies, especially in a case like this, contained at least a trace of truth about them: the people did love Cinderella more than any other member of the royal family, they doted on their People's Princess for the favours that she did for them; the nobility had not been shy of making it known that they preferred the Prince and Princess to the King's new queen; and amongst the denizens of the palace Cinderella was well loved for her kindness.

The lie, of course, came in insinuating that Louis had anything to fear from any of this. Prince Eugene would never overthrow his father, and Cinderella had taken him for a second father of her own. But that was where the lie and the compulsion of the potion that had rendered the King madly in love with her came in. She took what he knew and then convinced him of what it meant and he believed it, because he believed in her.

The King struggled within himself. "My dear, dear heart...My son...Eugene would never...Cinderella..."

"They think of you as the setting sun, and turn like flowers towards the dawn," Grace said. "Your son and his wife will take your crown from you if you slumber as you have done."

The King shook his head. "I don't believe...would they?"

"Could they not?"

"They...They could," the King admitted, because just something was impossible did not make it any less of a fact. Eugene could declare his father mad and he could seize the throne for himself and no one would raise any question about it. The fact that Prince Eugene _would not_ did not alter the fact that the answer to the question of _could he_ was yes.

But, having admitted that his son could, it was so very easy to convince the King that could led naturally on to would.

His being madly in love with Vanessa only helped in that regard.

Their behaviour, innocent though it was, didn't hurt Grace's case either.

Grace nodded. "They are unworthy of your majesty's love. All of them, even the boy. Cinderella hordes power the same way as she hordes jewels, and for what reason has Prince Eugene put her on the council if not so that they can rule together and steal the governance that should by rights be yours? The princess pretends to be a rose, but her thorns are poison; and if you force your son to choose between his father and his wife he will choose her every time."

That was probably even true, for Prince Eugene loved his wife very much. If it was a matter on which she was indisputably wrong he might argue against her, but to Grace's knowledge he had not done so yet. He had taken Cinderella's side against the king's, and fairly consistently too. Grace wondered if that galled His Majesty; he was a proud man, did it irk his pride to see power slipping out of his hands like water between his fingers, did he secretly envy Cinderella the love of commons, was there a part of him that already hated her and even his son, too?

Probably not, although it might have been nice if he had been. It would have given the two of them something they genuinely had in common.

"Trust in me, my love. I am the only person in all the world who truly loves you." She kissed him on the forehead. "Take me to wife and be guided by me, and I shall prove all these treason I have accused them of." She kissed him again, on the lips this time. "I will save you, my beloved Louis, and we shall remind the world that your sun has just begun to rise."

The King smiled at her with foolish fondness. "I will rely on you, dear heart. I was blind before you opened up my eyes. I cannot believe how deceived I was."

Grace stroked his face. "Rest now, my love. You are very tired."

The King yawned like a walrus. "Yes. Very tired. Rest...good night my..."

He began to snore, lying on top of his bed still dressed in the uniform he had worn to the ball.

Grace shook her head with a contemptuous fondness. As much as she didn't enjoy playing his lover and letting him crawl over her and under her and wherever else he pleased she couldn't deny that there were far worse men in the world. He was gentle with her, and it was not her magic that made him so. For a king he was remarkably free of snobbery, he had embraced his daughter-in-law and his grandson without prompting. He was a good man, take all in all, and Grace even found herself thinking that if she had to love out the days of his life by his side it would be no I'll fate for her. It was almost a pity that she must make use of him in such a way.

But she would be revenged. Cinderella had ruined everything, cost Grace her plans and ambitions, ruined her family, and the worst part was that she had done it almost by accident. Cinderella was no great schemer, she was naive and foolish but she had blundered her way to victory all the same. Grace would lay her back for that and all the hurts that Cinderella had done to her. She would strip Cinderella of everything and then make an end of her. And then she would achieve the long and dearly held ambitions of her family: a king of their blood, a king of magic who would bring back the old ways.

Grace had slipped His Majesty a love potion, but she had not been shy of taking potions of her own, to enhance her fertility. If she was not yet with child she would be soon, as sure as spring.

However, in order to ensure the succession of her boy, all others of the blood would have to go: to destroy Cinderella would be her revenge, to eliminate Prince Eugene and the boy also would be necessity.

But she would have to constrain her wrath for a while yet because her words to Louis held some truth in them: Cinderella was very popular here and an overt move against her could spark trouble. She would need to get people on her side, or replace those who were not with those who were.

Cinderella's strength came, in part, from those with whom she surrounded herself. Grace would need to isolate her, as well as to make a few friends of her own.

And prove, of course, some non-existent treasons.

Fortunately, she already had a plan for that in mind.

* * *

Angelique had to give the mice credit, they didn't hang around. Already, on the night of the same day that she had set them to work…actually, no, it was gone one o'clock, it was morning of the day after; but regardless, it was not long after she had asked the mice to do this and already Jaq had come to her with a report on a conversation he had overheard between Vanessa and the King.

Angelique yawned. It was late, but this was important, too much so to fob Jaq off until morning…or even until later that morning.

Still, she had written down everything he told her in case she forgot any of it in her sleepy state.

It was a little unfortunate that there wasn't a great deal to write down, but what there was confirmed all of Angelique's suspicions and more: Vanessa was dangerous, Vanessa was out to get Cinderella and her husband too, and Vanessa needed to be stopped.

Somehow. Angelique hadn't quite gotten to that part yet.

"Thanks, Jaq," she said. "This is a big help."

"Really?" Jaq sounded a little less than fully convinced. "But we didn't hear them say nothing about what she gonna do to Cinderelly!"

"No, she didn't," Angelique admitted. It was unfortunate that the King had fallen asleep before Vanessa could get that far. "But we know what she's aiming at now, and that's more than we knew before."

Part of Vanessa's plan was obvious: she was going to become queen, and quickly too. What would that mean exactly? This was technically the Queens Tower; would Cinderella be turned out of it once there was a queen in Armorique again? She wouldn't have thought the King would do such a thing...except he hadn't really been himself lately. In fact he had fallen quite a bit in Angelique's estimations, moreso now that she had heard from the mice that he suspected Prince Eugene and Cinderella might be plotting against him.

Which led her mind to the second part of Vanessa's goal, the part that Antique was having a harder time wrapping her mind around. She didn't just want to be queen; she wanted her son - the son she meant to have at least - to succeed to the throne. That meant doing something about Prince Eugene, but to prove he was treacherous to his father? Angelique could admit it was quite clever to use Cinderella's popularity against her like that, but treachery? That was ridiculous, and the main reason Angelique's opinion of the King had fallen so. Cinderella had tended to him in his illness right up to the moment she became sick herself, she loved him like her own father; she would never stab him in the back.

Angelique loved Cinderella, but they were talking about a woman who couldn't tell a lie with a straight face, who couldn't keep her emotions off her face or out of her eyes and who seemed to struggle enough merely with being what she would call 'unkind' never mind diabolically nasty. If she could betray anyone she was a much better actor than Angelique was giving her credit for.

So how did Vanessa mean to prove this treason, the existence of which she had just invented out of whole cloth? The obvious answer was that she meant to make up the proof the same way that she had made up the thing she was going to prove, but somehow Angelique didn't think that was it. After all, if she only meant to fake letters – Dear Eugene, let's kill your father. Your loving wife, Cinderella – or the like she could have done that already. What she'd actually said – assuming the mice had reported it accurately, and notwithstanding her occasional difficulties parsing their accents Angelique trusted them to get it right – sounded more as though she expected Cinderella or Eugene or both to do something that would 'reveal' their treachery. Except there was no treachery to reveal. So what was her plan?

Angelique yawned again. She probably wasn't going to unravel this mystery with her eyelids drooping like they were. Or even by herself. Perhaps she should talk to Augustina about this, she was a smart girl.

Except she'd probably be in bed now, the ball had broken up in uproar and confusion a little while ago. Angelique was quite sure that Cinderella and Prince Eugene were in bed too.

Everyone who needed to know about this was probably asleep or trying to be, except for her.

And she wasn't going to find the answers feeling like this.

"Thank you," she said again. "This really helps. Let me know if you find put anything else."

Angelique continued to wonder what Vanessa aimed for, and what could be done to stop it. She could tell Cinderella not to do anything treasonous except that she wasn't planning on it anyway. How did you avoid doing what you were never planning on doing in the first place?

What proof was Vanessa talking about?

Angelique got up off her bed. Cinderella was probably asleep but Angelique could go and make sure of that. And if she wasn't then Angelique would tell her everything. She might not like using the mice as spies but she would have to see, faced with the information they had obtained, that it was both vital and necessary in the face of Vanessa's threat.

How did you avoid doing something that you were never planning on doing in the first place?

Angelique didn't know the answer to that, but she knew that if she didn't tell Cinderella what she knew as soon as she could and something happened then the blame would all be hers.

She couldn't suffer anything to happen just because she was tired.

* * *

Cinderella sat in front of her vanity mirror, staring at her own reflection in the gilt-edged mirror.

Did she look so melancholy? Were her eyes really so downcast, did her lips tremble so? Obviously they did.

Cinderella couldn't say that it wasn't how she felt at this moment. The fear that she had felt after Vanessa had shoved her to the ground…she could feel it spreading throughout her, just as it had ever since His Majesty had slipped the ring onto her finger.

 _I've lived all of this before. I don't want to live it all again._

 _I'm not the frightened girl I used to be._ Except that she was frightened.

"I am a princess," Cinderella whispered to her reflection. "I am the princess of Armorique. I am Princess Cinderella."

But what did that really mean, at this moment?

"Cinderella?" Eugene said, from where he sat on her bed. She could him in the mirror, watching her anxiously. "I…it may sound absurd to hear this, but I don't want you to worry too much about it."

"No?" Cinderella asked in a voice so soft that she wondered if he would actually be able to hear her.

"No," Eugene replied with almost equal softness. He got up from her bed and crossed the bedroom floor. His chest filled the mirror behind Cinderella as she came to stand behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I won't let her hurt you."

She wanted to believe him. It would be so wonderful to believe him, and let all her worries fly away in consequence. And Cinderella did believe, with all her heart, that he would never knowingly stand by and watch her come to harm…but not all harm could be protected against by having a strong man around.

That was something Cinderella knew too well.

She prayed it would not be as she feared it would be…but she feared it nonetheless.

Cinderella let out a deep sigh. "I feel so tired, Eugene."

"Do you want me to go, and let you get some rest?"

"No," Cinderella said quickly and more loudly than she had spoken before, as she reached up and grabbed one of Eugene's hands before he could take it away from her. "No, please stay. Please don't leave me."

Eugene reached down and kissed her on top of her head. He knelt beside her, bringing him closer to her height. "Never."

Cinderella managed a faint, slightly wan smile at him.

Eugene smiled back, and with one hand he cupped her cheek and began to stroke it. "What are you afraid of?"

"I don't know," Cinderella said. "I just know that I'm afraid and I'm so tired of it. I'm tired of enemies and plots and people who hate me; I'm tired of being the sort of girl who can smile in spite of all her troubles; why can't I be the girl who smiles because she's put all her troubles behind her and her life is perfect, even if its only for a little while? Haven't I earned becoming that girl, even if it only temporary?" She bowed her head. "I suppose you think I'm whining."

"No, God no," Eugene said. "I don't think I've ever met anyone who complains less than you. You bear everything…and you're right, you shouldn't have to bear so many troubles, it isn't fair and I'm sorry. I…I wish I could tell you how I was going to make this better, but right now I don't know how."

The bedroom door creaked open by the smallest of margins. "Cinderella," Angelique hissed from the other side of the door. "Are you awake?"

Cinderella couldn't help but snort, in spite of everything. "I'm afraid I haven't even started to get ready for bed, Angelique."

"Oh, okay," Angelique said, in a more normal voice now. "Can I come in?"

Cinderella glanced at Eugene, who nodded by way of acquiescence.

"Of course you can," Cinderella said.

Angelique walked in and shut the door behind her. She wasn't ready for bed either, Cinderella saw. They were both still dressed in the gowns they had worn to the ball, albeit Angelique didn't still have all her jewels and makeup on as well.

"Your highness," Angelique said with a nod to Eugene.

"Lady Bonnet," Eugene said as he got his feet. "Would you like me to leave you in peace?"

"No," Angelique said. "Best if you both stay for this, it's actually quite good you're here. I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"No, I don't think so," Cinderella murmured. "I should be getting undressed but…I can't seem to do anything."

"I could help you, if you like," Angelique said, taking a step forward. "I mean, I could try. After…first it would be easier to talk to your face than a reflection in the mirror."

Cinderella turned around on the stool, and once again she felt Eugene place his hand upon her shoulder. "What is it?" she asked. "Is something the matter?"

"I think we all know the answer to that, don't we?" Angelique said.

Cinderella bowed her head. "Yes, I'm afraid we do."

Angelique clasped her hands together. She didn't quite meet Cinderella's eyes. "Oscar and Penny wanted to talk to me this evening; they didn't think that Vanessa was acting like someone from her background should. She didn't act like a shepherd girl should."

"I'm afraid I wouldn't really know," Eugene said. "Where they right?"

"I was never a shepherdess myself, but when they say that no poor girl would ever dare lay hand on a princess the way that she did I can believe it," Angelique said. "I mean, you didn't go around pushing your stepsisters all over the floor did you? Wait, don't answer that, I already know the answer." She smirked, and Cinderella found that one corner of her lip was twitching upwards as well.

The smile faded from Angelique's face. "Well, anyway, they talked a good deal of sense so I…I asked the mice to keep an eye on her for me; now I know what you're going to say but I was worried about you and so were they. And I was right, too, they've just told me something, something important, something that you both need to know. She's out to get you that Vanessa is. Both of you."

Cinderella drew in a sharp intake of breath. She was not shocked. That was perhaps the thing that shocked her the most. How very little surprise she felt at this revelation. It was something that she had known from the moment she had looked up from where she lay on the floor and seen the coldness in Vanessa's eyes.

She felt Eugene's grip on her shoulder tighten, though not enough to become painful to her.

"Tell us everything," Eugene said.

Angelique told all she knew, about how Vanessa wanted a quick marriage, and about how she intended to 'prove' that Eugene and Cinderella were plotting against the king.

Although she wasn't surprised to learn that Vanessa hated her, Cinderella had to admit that what Angelique had to say on what Vanessa intended to do about it did take her by surprise.

"But she can't," she said. "I mean she can't possibly…there's no proof to be found!"

Eugene closed his eyes for a moment. "It makes a twisted kind of sense. If Vanessa intends for a child of hers to inherit the throne then I, my father's heir, must be removed. And my heirs. Be careful, Cinderella. Be very careful, please."

"I will," Cinderella murmured. "But by the sound of it she isn't going to just attack me. She's going to…I admit, I don't understand what she's going to do."

"Neither do I," Angelique admitted. "I understand the words, but…how can she prove that your traitors when you're not. It makes no sense to me."

"Nothing about this makes any sense from the moment she arrived," Eugene growled. "Why should it start now?"

"I'm not sure what should concern us more," Cinderella said. "How she means to prove that we've betrayed your father…or what she'll do when she finds that she can't." Her eyes widened. "Philippe! Do you think she'll try to hurt Philippe, too?"

Eugene scowled. "I don't know. I'll assign a man from my guard to look after him, and his grandmother too."

"I wish there was something I could think of…but I can't," Angelique said. "I'm worried that there's a trap in there somewhere but I can't see it; I can't think how you can avoid doing something you wouldn't do…and I can't think how to take the fight to her."

"It's not your job to protect me, Angelique," Cinderella said. "But…I'm very glad that you do, and everyone else as well."

Angelique smiled briefly. "So…you're not upset."

"I don't think I have the right to be upset," Cinderella replied. "Only grateful that you all care for me so much that you're willing to do all of this for me."

Angelique took a couple of steps forward. "When I first met you…when you first took me in here and gave me so much…I thought that I had to look out for you the sake of looking out for me, and Jean. I was worried that if anything happened to you then something would happen to us as well, and very quickly."

"But not now?" Cinderella asked.

"No," Angelique said. "Now I want to look out for you because you're my friend. I don't understand exactly how Vanessa plans to get at you…but I know that she won't succeed. Together we'll stop her. Somehow, everything is going to turn out alright, I promise."


	15. Father

Father

Jean blinked rapidly out of his left eye, the one that had been swathed in bandages until now. It had been closed and trapped in darkness so long that even the candle light in the room was taking a little getting used to, and he had to struggle a little to keep it open.

He was lucky to still have two eyes. That side of his face was scarred, scored by the marks of the bear's claws, and if the creature's paw had swiped him a little up or down he would not have a left eye to see out of. As it was he had two eyes to see the scars that crossed that side of his face, the ugly red lines that marred it. As he fastened his tunic he could see all the scars the bear had left for him: scars covering his chest and arms and shoulders. They ached as he did up the buttons. Even now they throbbed with dull and aching pain.

Gradually, the sealing of his tunic as he fastened one button after another concealed his scars, until they were all hidden beneath the white linen, all save the scars on his face.

Jean was reaching for his jacket as Angelique came in, letting in more light from the corridor outside that made him squint against it from his left eye. He turned away.

"You don't have to hide from me," Angelique said in a soft murmur.

"You haven't seen what I'm hiding yet," Jean replied.

"Then show me."

Jean turned his face towards her, but did not look at her. Rather he looked once more at his own reflection in the full-length mirror, at the red lines that slashed diagonally across one side of his face, deforming it like a portrait slashed to ribbons.

Angelique said nothing, but Jean felt her hands upon him, turning him bodily around to face her.

"Look at me," Angelique said.

Jean looked down, lowering his eyes and even his head too. Her expression was unreadable to him, but she had not recoiled in disgust as she feared she would. Her face was set, neither smiling nor frowning nor seeming shocked or horrified. Her face was set in stillness, save for her lovely eyes which were full of tenderness.

With one gentle hand, she reached up and stroked the marred side of his face, her fingertips running down his scars.

"You're a very brave man," she said. "I love you for that."

"But?"

"No but," she said. "Just love." She tugged his face down towards her, and he put his hands around her waist as he bent down to kiss her.

When the kiss was done her cheeks were red and she looked as though she needed to catch her breath. He felt the same way.

"You don't ever have to hide from me," she said. "Never."

Jean nodded solemnly. He took a step back for her, and picked up his jacket from off the bed. He winced a little at the pain in his joints as he pulled it on.

"Are you sure you should be up?" Angelique asked.

"You told me that this woman Vanessa, who will be queen any day now, means harm upon the princess," Jean said, as he did up the brass buttons of his blue field jacket. "And then you ask if I should be up?"

"Well, yes," Angelique said, as though the connection eluded her.

"How could I idle in bed while the princess has need of me?" Jean asked. He grabbed his belt and sword off a nearby chair; his hand trembled a little at the weight.

"Cinderella wouldn't want you to push yourself too hard on her account."

"I am quite recovered," Jean said, buckling on his belt. "Do you think I should wear a mask?"

"A mask?"

"To cover this side of my face."

"You mean like in Marinette's gothic romances?"

"It would spare the princess from having to behold anything unsightly," Jean explained. "And you. Beauty should not have to behold such ruin. As I am...how could she still desire my service?"

"Alright, now you're just being melodramatic," Angelique said. "In the first place, if Cinderella heard you say that I think she'd probably be very upset to find out how shallow you think she is and in the second place I just told you that you didn't have to hide from me so get a grip! All Cinderella will see when she looks at you is the man who protects her from harm. And besides, wearing a mask would make you look ridiculous."

Jean bowed his head, but a smile crossed his face at the same time. "You always managed to keep me tethered, don't you?"

"Someone has to," Angelique said, but now she sounded more amused than anything. "It's good to see you haven't changed. Are you sure you're ready?"

"I am," Jean said firmly. "Is the princess in her chambers?"

"She was when I came down here," Angelique said.

"Then will you take my arm?" Jean asked, offering it to her.

Angelique looked at the offered arm for a moment, but then she smiled brightly, and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.

They walked to the Queen's Tower, and climbed the many steps up to the princess' rooms, where Private Perimon stood guard upon the door.

He stood to attention as Jean approached. "Welcome back, sir. I'm afraid you've just missed her highness."

"We didn't pass her on the way here," Angelique said.

"Then it must have been a little more than just, ma'am," the private said.

"Has she gone to breakfast?" Jean asked.

"She might have said something about visiting the boy first, sir," said Perimon. "Lady Roux and Mademoiselle du Bois were with her, and Corporal Adragain on guard."

"Right, thank you private," Jean said. "I think if I head to the dining room anyway then I'll-"

He was interrupted by what sounded like someone rushing around in the rooms beyond the door: footsteps running this way and that tapping on the wooden floorboards.

"Actually," he said. "I think I'll take a look inside, first."

* * *

"Come on, come on," Oscar said, chivvying Penny along. "Pack your stuff and let's go."

This was their best chance. The princess had gone, and so had all of her ladies and her maids as well. There was only the guard on the door to worry about and he probably wouldn't try to stop them. He was here to guard the room, not to keep them prisoner. He might not even ask any questions as they left. With luck they could get clean away before they were missed by anybody.

Penny started towards the princess' jewellery box.

"No," Oscar said firmly.

"We could take a couple of-"

"No!" Oscar repeated, more firmly this time. "We are not stealing jewels or anything else that would make anybody want to come after us. We are leaving with what we came with...and these clothes but we're not taking anything that doesn't belong to us." That was important. If they robbed the place on their way out then the princess and the queen would both have an interest in hunting them down, as superficially attractive as the idea of leaving their service with a reward might be. If they left empty-handed - or even empty-handed of anything that wasn't theirs - then nobody would care. There might be angry mutterings about how faithless they'd been, but nothing more than that. Nothing that could hurt them.

But they needed to leave now while they had the chance, while there was no one-

"What's going on?" Jean asked as he and Angelique walked in.

\- No one to see them leave.

Oscar sighed. She stuffed a pair of stockings into a canvas bag and walked out of the sitting room and into the bedroom. "Nice to see you back on your feet," she said, as with one hand she motioned Penny away from the jewellery box. Jean looked different from when she'd seen him last. Of course he did, his face looked...well, it looked a bear had mauled him, didn't it? Oscar tried not to look at it in case he was self-conscious. "I'm afraid you've missed everyone."

"Except you," Angelique said. "What are you doing?"

"Getting out," Oscar said bluntly. "While I still can."

Jean looked confused, an expression that looked more incongruous on him now than it had before. "Why do you want to leave?"

"Because when you asked me to come here and bring Penny with me you didn't tell me that we were going to get caught up in some fight between the princess and the queen! That isn't what I agreed to and it certainly isn't what I agreed to bring Penny into!"

"You were listening to me talk to the prince and princess last night," Angelique said flatly.

"I've got ears," Oscar said. "And this door isn't as thick as you might think when you've got one ear pressed against the keyhole."

Jean's right hand brushed against the hilt of his sword. "I know that things seem more difficult than anyone would have hoped for-"

"That's an understatement," Oscar said.

"But all is not lost," Jean insisted. "If we protect her highness-"

"Then what?" Oscar demanded. "And at what cost? The queen is out to get her but let's say you're right and she isn't doomed to lose. Perhaps she'll even win. My question is, why should I risk mine and Penny's lives to help her do it. This isn't what I agreed to and I don't owe her my undying loyalty. When queens and princesses fight people like me get stepped on. We're better off well out the way."

"You're afraid," Angelique said scornfully.

Oscar grinned. "I haven't survived by being brave, angel eyes."

Jean glanced at Penny. "Do you feel the same way?"

Penny shrugged. "Oscar says it's dangerous. I don't see why we should suffer from the princess' sake."

"We're leaving," Oscar said. "You have my word that we're not taking anything that doesn't belong to us, when the princess gets back she'll find all of her possessions exactly where she left them. But we're leaving. Unless the two of you mean to stop us."

"I'd rather that you wanted to stay," Jean said.

"I bet you would," Oscar said. "But I don't, because I've got no reason to."

Jean was silent for a moment. "Where are you going to go? Back to the alleys?"

"It's not much but it's safer than here."

"It's so safe then why are you and Penny the only ones left of the whole gang?" Jean demanded.

"I didn't say that it was safe," Oscar snapped. "I said that it was safer than here!"

"That's a matter of opinion," Jean said. He took off his hat, and ran one hand through his dark hair. "I really believe that Princess Cinderella can change this country for the better if she's allowed to. She lives in a high tower surrounded by beautiful things, but she still looks down at the problems of those below and tries to fix them. And we can help her with that, if only by protecting her. Being here, serving the princess, it's more than just a job, it's more than just a roof over your head and money in your purse; it's a chance to be a part of something bigger than we are, to be a part of something great and grand and glorious. When the Corn Laws were repealed and the price of bread went down I was part of that. I didn't vote or write law or make speeches but I protected the woman who made it happen. It was right and just and it brought hope to so many and I was a part of it the same way you can be a part of whatever she does next.

"Doesn't that sound grand? Tell me that that doesn't sound amazing."

Oscar scowled as she looked away. "Maybe it does. Maybe. But the risk-"

"There's always risk," Jean said. "If you run back to that alleyway there are risks. The risk of getting arrested, of finding that someone else has moved in and you can't shift them, the risk of starving or freezing or all the other fates we've seen happen to people less lucky than us. The difference here is that these risks are run in the service of doing the right thing.

"You can tell me that you're not brave, but I know that you haven't taken in kids and tried to protect them because you're selfish. You're not worried about Penny because you don't care about anyone but yourself. You care about the people who need help, like the princess needs our help. Don't go, Oscar, please. Stay and fight, for the princess and for everyone who has no voice and so looks to her to speak for them. And for yourself, too."

Oscar said nothing. Her thoughts were all turned inwards. Jean was right about the dangers; if they left then they'd be right back where they started at the mercy of everybody more fortunate than them. It was dangerous here too, and dangerous in a way she didn't have the first idea how to navigate, but...she couldn't deny the appeal of what he said. To do more than just live from day to day, even if it was only to play a small part in something great. And who knew, maybe she'd end up a Countess or something when it was all over. Things had certainly worked out well for Angelique.

"Penny," she said softly. "Unpack your things, we're staying."

"Right," Penny said.

Oscar affixed Jean with a stern glare. "You'd better be right about this. I hope you're right about this."

Jean nodded. "I hope so, too."

* * *

Cinderella had dressed quickly and left early, keen - one might even say anxious - to check on Philippe and to warn his grandmother about the possible danger to the boy posed by Vanessa. She didn't want to alarm Madame Clairval, but she didn't want to leave her ignorant either. If something happened to Philippe because Cinderella had said nothing...she would never forgive herself, in all her years.

Madame Clairval wouldn't forgive her either.

Eugene would have been with her, but he had been summoned by his father for a discussion, and after that he was going to arrange a guard for Philippe, so they wouldn't see each other again until breakfast. Augustina escorted Cinderella, and Christine joined them both as they descended the stairs. It was a little cramped, the three of them going down the stairs abreast one another in dresses that billowed out around their legs, but they managed. Cinderella, in the middle, held onto the hem of her gown with both hands, while the other two each kept on hand on Cinderella in case she should stumble on the way. Corporal Adragain followed silently behind them.

"Something must be done about this," Christine declared as they walked down the stairs. "The King cannot simply marry whomever he wishes."

"He's the King," Cinderella replied plaintively. "He can do as he pleases."

"Within the bounds of the laws he swore to uphold at his coronation, the precedent set by those who came before him and the bounds of what the opinion of the state will tolerate," Christine said. "Bad enough to make this girl his mistress but at least then he was only outraging morality. To marry her? Without consulting anyone?"

"Eugene asked me to marry him without consulting anyone," Cinderella said.

"Indeed, your highness, and I have to say that had he consulted with anyone he probably would have been told the same thing that His Majesty will hear if he deigns to listen: Armorique doesn't want a Queen Cutie. No offence to your highness."

Cinderella said nothing to that, mostly because she wasn't sure what to say. Christine sometimes said things that were not particularly kind, but as strange as it might seem when she said that she meant no offence Cinderella could almost believe her. Those of her ladies-in-waiting who had turned out to be her enemies in the past, who had hated her, had never been blatant about it in the past; well, Theodora had briefly but Christine's remarks didn't feel hateful in the way that Theodora's had when she took off her mask. It was as if, having stated that she meant no offence, Christine genuinely didn't expect Cinderella to take any.

"I think what Lady Christine is trying to say," Augustina said. "Is that when you were wed to Prince Eugene nobody could have expected what a gift to the realm you would be in the royal role."

"Indeed," Christine said. "Based purely upon your social standing and with no judgement upon your highness' character, the marriage ought to have been a morganatic one if it happened at all."

Cinderella still said nothing, but privately she couldn't help but wonder if a morganatic marriage - in which she would not have become a princess or a queen, and her children would not have been eligible to succeed to the throne - might not have been for the best. Might it not have given her less trouble with Serena and Grace and now Vanessa?

 _But it would also have meant I couldn't have done anything to help the people of this country. So it's probably quite a selfish thing to wish for._

"You might have enjoyed more untrammelled personal happiness in such a state, I admit," Augustina said, seeming to guess what Cinderella was thinking. "But Armorique would have been much the poorer for it."

Cinderella smiled ever so slightly. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

"You're not particularly difficult to read," Augustina said, softly and without malice or criticism. "And besides...I honestly you would have been bored in a morganatic marriage. With no public role to consume your energies and his highness distracted by his role and obligations...what would you have done?"

"I...you might have a point there, Augustina."

"Of course," Augustina said. "I always have a point."

"In any case, this is all by the by now," Christine said. "In the case of your highness, His Majesty decided to allow the union to proceed on an equitable basis, granting you all your husband's titles and your children full rights of inheritance-"

"It must be admitted," Augustina said. "That if only maids of equal standing with his highness were to be considered eligible for non-morganatic unions then most of us who once hoped to be the prince's bride would be right out. I can only think of Princess Frederica of Normandie who would fit the strict criteria in use at some courts."

"But you must admit that there is a world of difference between marrying an aristocrat, or even a gentleman's daughter, and marrying a shepherdess."

Cinderella's brow furrowed. "If I may...I'm not particularly fond of the way that everyone who once called me a servant girl has now started calling me a gentleman's daughter; I was always both, but it only matters now because it's convenient for people."

Augustina squeezed Cinderella's arm affectionately. "It's a dreadful hypocrisy, I know, but support is support. It's better than being hated, you must admit."

"I suppose so," Cinderella conceded. "I'm sorry, Lady Christine, we keep interrupting you."

"Your Highness may interrupt me as she pleases," Christine replied, with no sign of hurt feelings. "Regardless of how fortuitous your highness' arrival on the scene has turned out to be for Armorique and for his highness, Mademoiselle Vanessa is not you. Armorique does not want a Queen Cutie."

 _I don't want her either._ Cinderella thought. She hadn't told either Christine or Augustina about what Angelique had told her, mostly because she wasn't sure how to explain where Angelique had gotten her information from; she still didn't feel entirely comfortable telling Augustina about the mice and she certainly wasn't ready to trust Christine with that. And she couldn't think of how else Angelique could have found out Vanessa's intentions. "She frightens me," she said, because the admission was about all she could say. "I'm worried about what she might do."

"To you?" Augustina asked, with a frown on her face.

"To me, to my husband, my stepson," Cinderella said. "She frightens me."

"I wouldn't go so far, but then I'm not the one that she attacked," Augustina murmured.

"It's an utter disgrace that she is still here after laying hand on you like that," Christine growled. "I thought - as the general opinion was - that His Majesty was rather fond of you but after last night it appears that he possesses neither affection for you nor respect for your position."

"I thought he was fond of me too," Cinderella murmured, because that was almost worse than anything else about this horrible situation; worse than learning that Vanessa hated her - she wasn't the first person to hate Cinderella for no good reason - was the fact that the King apparently hated her too, and suspected her of plotting against him. Was she so hateful that no one could love her? Would all those whom Cinderella dared to believe could or did love her reveal that they had been decieving her in the end? Would Eugene's smile one day turn cruel as he explained how he had used her until, having no further use for someone like her, he was ready to dispose of her now.

 _No. No, I can't think like that. Eugene loves me even if his father does not, just as Angelique and Jean and Augustina and Marinette all love me. I have to trust them. I have to keep on believing._

 _My stepmother couldn't shatter my spirit, I can't let anyone else do so either._

Still...it hurt her, to find out that the King had never loved her at all.

It had felt so wonderful to have a father again.

"I'm sorry, Cinderella," Augustina said. "I know this can't be easy on you."

"That woman is no good for the monarchy," Christine declared. "No good at all. The prospect of her as queen...it cannot be. If the marriage must go forward it must go forward morganatically."

"All very well to say," Augustina said. "But nigh-impossible to enforce. You can talk about law and precedent but the fact is that when Prince Eugene wished to marry Cinderella in full then it didn't matter that the opinion of the court was against it, he had the King's leave and that was enough. If the King is desirous to make her queen she will be queen no matter what your or I or anyone else may think."

Christine's mouth tightened. "Then perhaps it is time that His Majesty gave-"

"Christine!" Cinderella cried, her mind whirling. _If His Majesty thinks that I'm plotting against him then what would he think to hear Christine finish that sentence?_ She was so startled, and so alarmed, that she stumbled on the stairs and only the fact that Christine and Augustina both had hold of her saved her from tumbling.

"Your Highness, take care," Christine said. "What's the matter."

"Christine, I mean Lady Christine, I'm sorry," Cinderella said. "You must never say such things, no matter where we are."

Christine frowned. "Your highness, I don't understand? You seem afraid of something."

"I am," Cinderella confessed. "I'm afraid of what people might think if they heard us talking like this. Please, can we drop the subject?"

Christine hesitated for a moment. Then she nodded. "As your highness desires."

They passed the rest of the way uneventfully, albeit somewhat slowly in deference to the fact that Cinderella tired more quickly than normal, and arrived on the floor of the King's Tower - on the other side of the palace - which housed Philippe and his grandmother. There had been no sight of either Vanessa or His Majesty, and Cinderella couldn't help but be thankful for that. As she and her ladies climbed the stairs Cinderella saw that there was already a guard upon the nursery door, a man whose name she didn't know but whom she had seen protecting Eugene once or twice. Obviously Eugene had set him there.

"Your highness," he said, coming to attention as she arrived on the landing. "The madame is within with the boy."

"Thank you," Cinderella said. "Are they alright? There hasn't been any trouble, has there?"

"No, ma'am."

"Were you expecting any?" Christine asked.

"I...I wasn't sure," Cinderella said. "Ladies, if you wouldn't mind waiting here, I promise I won't be long."

"Be as long as you wish, princess, we're at your service," Christine said.

"But don't be so long that you miss breakfast," Augustina added with a smile.

Cinderella managed a small chuckle at that. "I won't. May I go in, please?"

That last was for the guard upon the door, who stepped aside for her and even opened the door. Cinderella stepped into the nursery to see that Philippe was still in bed, albeit his grandmother was pulling a sailor suit out of the wardrobe for him to wear.

Philippe's face brightened at the sight of her. "Stepmother! I mean...good morning, stepmother."

Cinderella smiled. She couldn't, or rather she would not, allow her present fears and misgivings to affect her now. Madame Clairval deserved to know the truth, but Philippe deserved _not_ to know it until it could not be avoided. Hopefully it would never come to that. So she smiled, as brightly as she had ever smiled at him. "Good morning, Philippe." She crossed the room and sat down on the edge of his bed, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Did you sleep well?"

Philippe shook his head. "I had a bad dream."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Cinderella said. She stroked his cheek with the knuckles of one hand. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"A bad man was chasing me," Philippe said. "He wanted to take me away."

"Oh, Philippe," Cinderella said soothingly, as she brushed some of his long, dark hair - though Philippe resembled his father in miniature, he wore his hair so much longer - out of his forehead before she kissed it, and enfolded him in her arms. "You don't need to be afraid of any bad man or anything like that ever happening. If anyone ever tried to take you away, I wouldn't let them."

"You promise?"

"Cross my heart," Cinderella said. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Philippe looked up at her. "Stepmother, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Cinderella said. "You can ask me anything you like."

"Why are you always wearing gloves, even when it's indoors and sunny?"

Cinderella giggled. "Well, because ladies are allowed to wear gloves indoors, even when it isn't cold."

"But why?"

"Because I think they're pretty, and very elegant," Cinderella said, looking at the wrist-length gloves which currently enclosed her hands. "And because...you might not believe this, but when I was a girl I had to work very hard. I had to wash the floors, and do laundry and cook dinner and even go up on a tall ladder and mend the roof sometimes." Cinderella pulled off the glove on her left hand, revealing the hard and calloused skin beneath the silk. "And so, I'm afraid my hands aren't as soft as they should be for me to be a real princess." She brushed her fingers against his cheek. "So I wear gloves, and let the silk be soft for me." She stroked his cheek again. "Can you feel it? Much better."

Philippe smiled. "And is it true that King Grandfather is getting married?"

Cinderella's smile faltered for a moment. "Yes, yes it is. Um, Philippe, I'm sorry but I need to speak to your grandmother." Her smile returned - looking a little forced, but nevertheless - as she got up off his bed and walked to the other side of the room, to where Madame Clairval had been loitering by the wardrobe ever since Cinderella came in.

"Good morning, your highness," she said softly.

"Good morning, Madame," Cinderella said in an equally quiet voice. "Is everything alright with the two of you."

"He woke up from his nightmare, but a little hot milk sent him to sleep again," Madame Clairval said. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," Cinderella said with a sigh. "But I'll manage."

"You don't usually visit this early in the morning."

"I wanted to make sure you were both alright," Cinderella said.

Madame Clairval's eyes narrowed. "What's the matter, princess? You can convince Philippe that you are as bright and joyful as ever but I'm not four going on five."

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "The King's new betrothed...have you met her?"

"No," Madame Clairval said.

"I'm worried about her," Cinderella said. "Worried about what she might do, I mean."

Madame Clairval turned to face the princess. "Is that why there's a guard outside the door?"

"Just...be careful," Cinderella said. "And take care of him."

"Always," Madame Clairval said. She frowned. "There are times I think it was a mistake coming here. He's happy here, true, but he was happy before, and safer. But then..."

"What?"

"Here he has you," Madame Clairval said. "And I'm not sure I could bring myself to take that away from him."

Cinderella's smile lasted only for a moment. "Take care, madame."

"And you, your highness."

"Thank you," Cinderella said. She turned to go, and started for the door. "I have to go now, Philippe," she said. "But you have a good day, listen to your grandmother, and don't go wandering off."

"I won't. Can I have another kiss before you go? Please?"

Cinderella giggled. "Well, since you asked so nicely." She bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek before she walked to the door. She waved to him. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Stepmother," Philippe called, as she closed the door behind her.

"Your highness seems refreshed," Christine said.

Cinderella shrugged. "I can't allow Philippe to see me upset, and pretending...it makes me feel less upset, if that makes sense."

"I suppose," Christine said. "Although it is a mystery to me that you care so much for that boy possessing, as he does, no extraordinary attributes that would warrant it."

Cinderella folded her arms. She felt the pearl bracelets pressing into her skin. "I don't understand."

"He isn't especially intelligent, charming, precocious, ferocious or even kind," Christine said. "He's a perfectly ordinary small boy, which would be perfectly understandable if he were your own child as mothers across Europe manage to love such ordinary boys when they have brought them into the world; I have a profoundly ordinary brother who has nevertheless managed to be the apple of my mother's eye for as long as I've known him. Not that I'm jealous. But he is not your son, and yet he seems to have managed to endear himself to you despite the lack of any appealing qualities."

Cinderella chuckled. "Lady Christine, I don't know what to say except that choosing who we love - if it is a choice at all - is not as sensible as you seem to think or would like it to be. Honestly, I'm not even sure it's a choice at all."

They took her down to breakfast, stopping just before the dining hall.

"Thank you so much," Cinderella said to them. "I'm sorry that I have to drag you all up and down everywhere like this."

"We are at your service, princess," said Christine.

"Do you want us to wait for you to finish?" Augustina asked.

"No, I'm sure that Eugene will escort me back to my room," Cinderella said. "Thank you, again."

They curtsied, and left her. Cinderella turned to the dining room, clasped her hands together, and took a deep breath.

 _It's just breakfast. Nothing is going to happen._

 _I've done nothing wrong, and all her lies are groundless._

 _I am the princess of Armorique, and my husband loves me very much._

 _I am perfectly safe._

She took another deep breath, and walked into the dining room.

Cinderella saw at once that she was the last to arrive: Eugene, His Majesty and Vanessa were already seated around the head of the long dining table.

"Good morning, your highness," said one the maids standing by the door.

"Good morning," Cinderella replied.

Eugene was looking rather down and a little dour too, but his face brightened a little as he caught sight of her. He rose to his feet. "Cinderella-"

"And about time, too," the King growled. "You have kept us all waiting."

Cinderella bowed her head a little. "I'm sorry, your majesty, I was just-"

"I'm not interested in your excuses," His Majesty declared. "Sit down at once."

"Of course, your majesty, I'm very sorry."

Eugene drew out a chair next to him. "Here, Cinderella, sit by me."

"What protocol is this?" Vanessa asked. "Till I am queen the princess should sit in her accustomed seat, on Louis' left." She gestured languidly towards a seat between the King, at the head of the table, and herself.

Cinderella hesitated.

"Don't just stand there like a slack-jawed idiot!" the King snapped. "Here, girl, here!" He gestured with one meaty hand towards the chair between Vanessa and himself.

Cinderella walked briskly to it, and tried to control the trepidation that she felt as she pulled out the chair and sat down, feeling a little like a ship sailing a channel between two rocky cliffs uncertain if they might suddenly crash together and crush her between them.

"You look very pretty this morning, your highness," Vanessa said.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle," Cinderella said softly.

"I suppose that's why you were so late."

"Actually, I was visiting my stepson, Mademoiselle," Cinderella said. She noticed that, despite the King's upset at her tardiness there was no food on the table waiting for them.

"Ah, I see," Vanessa said. "All the same, you look very pretty." She reached out and tugged at the string of large pearls clasped tight around Cinderella's neck. "You like pearls, don't you?"

The way she was pulling made a tight necklace feel even tighter around Cinderella's throat. "Yes, mademoiselle."

"You like white things in general, don't you?" Vanessa said. "You must think you're very pure. I'm a little surprised you haven't tried to claim a virgin conception." She laughed at her own wit.

"I would not be so foolish as to deny any of the pleasure that my husband has given to me, mademoiselle," Cinderella said.

Eugene smiled at her, and reached for her hand across the table.

The King's fist descended on her husband's hand like a hammer. "Leave off, for the love of Mary! Holding hands all the time like moonstruck fools."

Eugene rubbed at his hand. "Father, you complained at Cinderella's lateness; yet here she is and still no meal."

The King ignored him. He looked at Cinderella - glowered at her, more like - as he produced a recorder from his pocket and began to play. It was a simple tune, but he played it very well.

"Very good, your majesty," Cinderella said.

He did not look pleased at the compliment. He held out the recorder to her. "Now you try."

Cinderella held up one hand. "I'm afraid I wouldn't very good at it, your majesty. It's been years since I last had a lesson." As a girl - which was to say, as a girl when her father had been alive - she had learned to play the recorder, and had been learning the piano and the violin as well as receiving singing lessons. Nine years of domestic service later, however, and only her singing voice had not atrophied from a lack of use. Augustina had started teaching her the piano and Marinette - who was quite astonishingly talented once she could be persuaded to play anything - the violin but Cinderella was so busy that progress was slow. Of the recorder she remembered practically nothing.

"It isn't difficult," the King said. "You simply cover the holes with your fingers, and blow. A child could do it."

"Father, she said no," Eugene said.

The King ignored him still. "Take the instrument, and play something."

"I'd love to, your majesty," Cinderella said. "But I don't think I can."

"Insolence!" the King bellowed, making Cinderella start in shock. He slammed one hand into the table as he rose to his feet. "Do you think that I am easier to play than this little instrument!" He raised the recorder in the air and like a club he brought it down on Cinderella's head.

Cinderella turned away, and cried out at the pain she felt in her temple as he struck her. She tried to get up, and get away, but Vanessa had hold of Cinderella's arm and was gripping it painfully tight. Cinderella couldn't pull free and so she was trapped, half up from her seat but unable to really move as the recorder rose again.

"No, please, stop!" Cinderella cried as the King struck down again. She raised her free arm to shield herself, and cried out in pain again as it took the blow.

Eugene was on his feet now, and he grappled with his father, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him backwards. "Father, stop this! What in God's name do you think you're doing?"

"You think that you can play me as though I am a pipe or fiddle?" the King yelled. He wrestled against his son, but was unable to match the strength of his son. "You would beat me like a drum, play me as you see fit and then put me away again when you are done? I will not bear it! Unhand me at once! Do you choose this wanton over your own father?"

"Guards!" Vanessa yelled, still holding Cinderella fast. "Defend your king!"

There were four guards in the room; five if you counted Corporal Adragain just outside, but none of them made any move to intervene. They stood frozen by the insanity of what they were witnessing; Cinderella doubted they had ever seen anything like it before.

"This is madness!" Eugene yelled. "Father, what's got into you?"

The King made another futile attempt to break free of Eugene's grip. His face had turned deep scarlet with fury, but then he bowed his head and began to sob. Tears ran freely down his face. "Eugene...Eugene...Cinderella..."

"Father?"

"Eugene," wailed his Majesty, as his legs seemed to give way beneath him and he sank to the floor as far as Eugene's grasp allowed him.

Vanessa released Cinderella's arm as she rode from her seat and rushed to the King. Cinderella rushed too. With her head ringing from the first blow and her arm in such pain from the second, she ran. She stumbled over her chair, falling to her knees, but then she scrambled upright and ran, heedless of Eugene calling her name. She couldn't stay she, she just couldn't, not right now, not after that. Heedless of dignity and grace and all else she ran, fleeing the dining room as fast as her legs would carry her.

Cinderella ran, her skirt flying around her, her slippers tapping a staccato drumbeat on the floors, until she ran headlong into somebody at such speed that they almost fell to the floor together in a heap. He caught her, and though he rocked backwards from the impact he did not fall nor did he let her fall. Cinderella didn't see who it was at first, her head was down and she saw only her dress and the floor beneath her and a pair of polished black boots.

"Your highness? Your highness why do you fly in such a state?"

"Jean?" Cinderella said, looking up into his face. The left side was terribly scarred, and he looked so pale that Cinderella could not believe him to be completely recovered; but all the same the sight of him was such a welcome one, and to have run into him filled Cinderella with such relief that in spite of everything her lips twitched upwards. "Jean? Oh, Jean, is it really you?"

Jean smiled back at her. "I am at your service, your highness."

"Thank you," Cinderella sighed. "Thank you so much, I...I need...I mean I'd like you to escort me back to my room please, Jean. If it isn't too much trouble."

Jean frowned. "It is no trouble at all, princess, but why do-" His face darkened. He reached up and with one hand gently touched Cinderella's temple where the king had struck her.

Cinderella winced, and jerked her head away.

"Your highness, who did this to you?"

"It doesn't matter," Cinderella said. "Please-"

"Your highness, this cannot be allowed-"

"I just want to-"

"Tell me their names and I will-"

"Jean!" Cinderella cried. "Please, Jean, please, I just...I just want to go back to my room. Please, please take me. Please." Her hands trembled on his arms. "Take me home, and stay with me."

Jean stared at her a moment. "As you wish your highness." He put one arm around her as he began to lead her away. "Don't worry, princess, you're safe with me."

"I know," Cinderella murmured. "I'm always safe with you."

Jean led her back to her room at the top of the tower, and as Cinderella had asked he stayed with her, on guard, as her ladies-in-waiting fussed over her and Cinderella's personal chef prepared a breakfast for her to eat in her chambers.

She was almost finished by the time Eugene arrived, his steps heavy and leaden. He didn't look at her. He looked ashamed of himself.

"I'm so sorry," he said, not taking a seat in the sitting room even though Marinette had gotten up to offer him one. "I never imagined that he would ever do such a thing to you."

"It's not your fault," Cinderella said.

"I should have stopped him sooner."

"You did your best."

"Your highnesses, if I may," Jean said. "Am I to understand...His Majesty assaulted the princess?"

Eugene hesitated. Cinderella said nothing, if Eugene didn't want to admit it she wasn't going to. She hadn't told any of her ladies precisely what had happened, just that something had.

"Yes," Eugene said hoarsely. "He struck her twice."

Jean's jaw tightened, and his hands clenched into fists, but he said nothing.

Angelique closed her eyes and she seemed to be muttering something like a prayer.

"Would your highness object if I were to challenge him, on behalf of the princess' honour?"

"Oh God," Angelique muttered, putting her head in her hands.

"Yes, I would actually," Eugene said acidly. "He is...the King is not himself. One moment he was raging like a tempest and the next he wept like a baby."

"He is mad," Christine said. "It is the only explanation. And a mad king-"

"Lady Christine, don't," Cinderella said. "Please don't."

Christine frowned. "As your highness wishes, but...I am sure that I don't have to state the case in order for everyone here to recognise it."

Indeed she did not. The words she had not spoken hung in the air, more pregnant than Cinderella herself.

* * *

Etienne Gerard shivered a little in the cold cellar beneath the headquarters of the city garrison, the cellar where the bodies were kept until any relatives they might have claimed them, or it was time to cast them into a pauper's grave.

Underground, there was no light but candle light, and flickering flames cast long shadows in this place of death.

His shivering was not wholly due to the cold.

With one hand he motioned for the cloth to be drawn back from the body they had found. He had set men to digging up the field where he had found the girl and they had found someone else as well: a man in his middle years, his dark hair turning to grey, a beard covering his face, dressed in rough and somewhat dirty garments. He looked, as far as Etienne could tell from the description that had been provided to him, like the missing shepherd who had disappeared at the same time as his daughter, Vanessa.

The man's neck had been snapped. The look frozen on his lifeless face was one of shock, one might even call it horror.

His wife had died some time ago, and in the absence of his daughter - or perhaps his daughter's unwillingness to have anything to do with the investigation - Etienne had asked the man's latest employer to come in and identify the body. With God's grace he might even offer to pay some for some sort of burial.

Etienne motioned for the man to be covered up again, then turned away from the body as he frowned in thought. He could see two possibilities. Either the Vanessa in the palace was telling the truth, and she was not the same woman as the missing shepherdess. In that case it would be a fair assumption that the dead woman buried in the same field as the late Monsieur Barere was the missing Mademoiselle Vanessa, and the question was not only why they had been killed - he could believe that they might have come across their flock being robbed and been killed for it, or they had been killed preparatory to their flock being robbed - but then the wildly different causes of death remained to be explained.

Or the Vanessa who would shortly be Queen of Armorique was lying to him and this was her father lying on the slab in this cold cellar. Her manner certainly suggested a woman with something to hide. But what, and for what purpose? Did she know something, but she was afraid that the people who had killed her father would come after her? He might believe that if she were still a humble shepherdess but now? She was to be queen, with all the power and resource of the state to call upon, she had only to name names and they would be hurled into the dungeons, she had only to say 'I am in danger' and men would be placed at her disposal. No, Etienne did not believe that she was in fear for her life. Was she involved then, in some way? She could not have killed her father, not like that; her father had been a grown man, active and fit, to subdue him and break his neck like this would have required at least one strong man, probably more. If she was not the murderer she could be a co-conspirator with the murder but why or for what purpose? And if the missing Vanessa was in the palace then who was the dead girl?

Etienne rubbed the bridge of his nose. He felt as though every answer raised more questions.

He considered his next step for a moment. What did he have: a missing shepherd who was dead; a missing shepherdess who was still missing; a shepherdess who moved in gowns as though she had been born to them; a dead girl who looked as though she had been drained. And to these should he add a king who appeared to have taken leave of his senses?

He would go to the hut where Prince Eugene had found the King and Vanessa together. If the sheep were still there, and it could be proven that they were the sheep stolen at around the time the shepherd and his daughter went missing, that would prove a connection between Vanessa and the missing shepherds. And then? Then he would have to question her again.

 _The King cannot marry a woman connected to a murder investigation._

 _But I'm running out of time to stop it_


	16. Fear

Fear

Cinderella's married life had, on many occasions, failed to be as happy as she would have liked, but she had never felt as though the palace itself were turning against her until now. Even when she had been angry at and terrified of Eugene, even when she had been afraid that she was about to lose him forever, she had never felt as frightened of the palace as she did now.

That...stated thus it sounded rather unfair. The servants remained very kind to her, and immensely considerate of all her needs. The maids who attended on her had not so much as a hostile glance to send her way. But all the same, Cinderella felt frightened of this place as she had not done before.

It had been three days now since the King had struck Cinderella across the face and arm. With the correct application of makeup, Duchamp was able to conceal the bruise on Cinderella's temple, and long gloves concealed the angry welt upon her arm, but Cinderella could still feel them both throbbing in pain. She had thought he loved her, but apparently it was not and had never been so.

Three days since then. Only two days remained until Vanessa wed his Majesty and became Queen Vanessa of Armorique. Though she was not yet queen, that had not stopped the men she had raised from being called the Queen's Regiment. They wore red coats, in contrast to the usual blue of the Armorican military, and they were a substantial part of Cinderella's fear.

She didn't like them, these new armed men who seemed to prowl in every corridor, stand guard over every door, lurk in every shadow. Cinderella had never known so many guards in the palace before, and Eugene confirmed that such a substantial presence - there must have been hundreds of them - had not occurred in his memory either.

Cinderella had never heard them speak. She had only ever heard them growl wordlessly, or sniff the air like bloodhounds, or bare their teeth at those who came too near. Cinderella didn't know where Vanessa was finding such men, but they were all rough-looking and dishevelled, with hard, almost brutal faces and wicked smiles. Already there were whispers about them, whispers that Cinderella should have hated to believe. It seemed she wasn't the only one who was frightened by these new men.

Yesterday they had caught her alone. Drizella was supposed to be with her - she had been with her, until Cinderella popped in to see Philippe - but when she had come out of the room again her stepsister had disappeared. And so Cinderella, making her way back to her rooms, had been alone when they had caught her.

One red-coated man had blocked her way, standing squarely athwart the corridor so that there was no way for her to pass.

"Excuse me, please," Cinderella murmured, but he did not move.

"Excuse me," Cinderella repeated. "I'd like to get by."

It was only then that other men emerged, seeming to appear from out of the shadows, cutting her off from behind, encircling her. They looked like wolves, and they regarded Cinderella like a doe that had incautiously wandered her way into their den.

"Please," Cinderella said softly, as she turned this way and that, her skirt swirling around her as she looked at all the rough and wicked looking men who now surrounded her.

They growled, the harsh and guttural sounds rising from their throats as they bared their teeth at her.

Cinderella clasped her hands together over her heart as her face became a mask of fright.

 _Jean? Eugene? Someone please help me._

But no one had come. No saviour had appeared and those men, Vanessa's men, had toyed with her; there was no other way to describe the way that they had snapped at Cinderella like wild dogs, making her reel first in one direction and then the next as she tried to stay away from whichever one of them was lunging at her. They made it a game to grab at her, to hold her painfully by the arms for a moment before letting her go, and all the while they laughed, or made a sound that seemed a little like laughter, but the most horrible laughter Cinderella had ever heard.

Cinderella's princess style had meant less than nothing to them, she had as well been a mouse to a cat for the way they treated her.

It had turned out, when they finally grew tired of tormenting Cinderella and allowed her to flee to her chambers, that Drizella had gotten bored of waiting for her and had demanded that Private Perimon, who was supposed to be guarding Cinderella, escort her back to her room. Jean had screamed at the young soldier so loudly that Cinderella could hear him from three floors up, reminding him that his charge was Cinderella and no one else. Cinderella didn't say anything to Drizella about what she had done; she felt too tired, too frayed by what had happened to her, she had no desire for an argument.

"Are we playing Saturnalia here, that common soldiers may use a princess so?" Christine demanded. "Are misrule and madness to become commonplace? Will there be no punishment for this insolence?"

Cinderella was not hopeful, and when Eugene had come to her and told her, with regret heavy in his voice, that Vanessa and his father had both refused to dismiss or even punish any of the men who had behaved like that to her...Cinderella could no longer say that she was surprised.

"I think we ought to go," Eugene said, as he took her by the hands.

"Go?" Cinderella repeated. "Go where?"

"The Summer Palace, maybe, where we spent our honeymoon," Eugene said. "Or if not, there are other estates we have. I have an estate outside of Nantes if you'd prefer. Somewhere away from here, away from Vanessa and the Queen's Regiment and...and my father. Away from all of them where we can be...where all three of us can be safe." He placed one hand on Cinderella's belly.

One of Cinderella's hands joined his there as she placed it on top of his. "That sounds..." she sighed. "I don't want to run away but...but I don't want to stay here either. Yes, yes, take me away from here, that sounds wonderful." She laid her head upon Eugene's chest. "Could Philippe come with us?"

"Yes, they both could," Eugene said. "It's probably for the best they do. We'll leave as soon as the wedding is past."

Maybe it was nothing more than running away, maybe it was conceding that Vanessa had won, maybe it was only putting off their troubles but what if it was? Was that such a bad thing? What were they supposed to do, with the King so firmly on her side. Cinderella had spent nine years, nearly half her life, being treated like dirt; being insulted; punished for things she hadn't done; subject to unreasonable demands; living in a state of constant fear, always wondering what invisible barrier she would transgress next and how she would suffer for it. Cinderella didn't want to live the next nine years of her life the same way; she didn't want to bring up a child that way. If she had to flee to escape it then so be it. She could run away now. She had a husband who would take her away from the pain and the misery. She didn't have to stay and suffer this time.

"I'm sorry that it's come to this," Angelique said. "I'm sorry that...I haven't been able to do more." She bowed her head. "It seems as though every time I set myself the task of keeping you safe I fail at it."

"There's nothing you can do," Cinderella replied. "I'm not sure that there's anything that anyone can do."

"Maybe," Angelique muttered. "But I'd like to try. When you go...I'd like to stay, see if I can find something, anything, to...to make this better."

"Angelique," Cinderella murmured. She folded her hands in her lap. "That could be dangerous."

Angelique grinned, or tried to. "I've survived worse. Don't worry about me, just take care of yourself wherever you go."

The thought that they would be able to leave after the wedding buoyed up Cinderella's thoughts as the wedding day drew ever nearer. It was impossible for them to leave beforehand because the King had commanded that they both play their parts in the ceremony: Eugene was to give away the bride, and Cinderella was to be her bridesmaid. This in spite of the fact that whenever Vanessa saw her she seemed to have nothing to say to Cinderella but insults. Cinderella's belly was starting to show, swelling up with the new life that was growing inside her, and as a result Vanessa never let sight of Cinderella pass without some remark about her weight and the loss of her looks.

With her baby bump starting to appear Cinderella was badly in need of some new dresses, as it turned out that gowns tailored to an hourglass figure was not particularly comfortable once that hourglass started to become less pinched around the middle; but the palace was barred to Lucrecia now, something which His Majesty informed her of personally the one time Cinderella had seen him after he had...struck her.

"We will be glad to see you stripped of all your falsehoods," he declared. "God gave you one face but you have painted yourself another to deceive me with."

"Your majesty," Cinderella replied. "I promise that I have never lied to you."

The King turned away with a snort. "There will be no more gowns beneath which you may conceal your wickedness. And from this day on all your jewels will belong to our future queen, Vanessa. It is not fitting that the princess should shine brighter than the queen."

Vanessa, smiling, had ripped the necklace from off Cinderella's neck right there and then, and the bracelets from her wrists too. That very day Cinderella's jewellery box, with all her rings and necklaces and bracelets, all her diamonds and pearls and sapphires, had been taken away. The next time Cinderella saw Vanessa she was wearing the necklace Eugene had given her for their wedding day, with the sapphire heart glimmering from around her neck.

It had taken great effort for Cinderella to conceal from her face how upset that sight made her, but from the look in Vanessa's eyes it seemed the other woman could guess very well.

Cinderella saw the King very little, and was sad to say the she preferred it that way. She took all her meals in her room, and never went down to dine in the hall. Eugene ate with her more often than not. She was...she was too afraid to go down and suffer more attacks, knowing that even if she escaped a beating she would have to endure hours of insult at least. Plus, Cinderella found herself wearing her old, loose-fitting blue nightgown as if was one of the few things that didn't hug a figure more slender than Cinderella was becoming, and was thus more comfortable than any of hew newer and more lovely gowns; in consequence she was hardly presentable, but she didn't get dressed unless or until she had to.

So she saw very little of the King - she got the impression that Eugene didn't see much more of his father - but Cinderella heard from Christine, via her uncle who wrote to her each day with gossip and news in equal proportion, that the King had angrily refused to even contemplate a morganatic marriage when the idea was put to him. Vanessa would be queen, and her children would be princes and princesses. Cinderella had to hear this from Christine via her uncle because both she and Eugene had been barred from meetings of the Privy Council; physically barred, with guards upon the doors to forbid their entry. All the work which His Majesty had delegated to Eugene he had withdrawn back unto himself; he no longer needed nor wanted their assistance in the government of the kingdom.

Eugene was bored, and Cinderella found that spending time with her stepson was a balm for her frustrations. Denied anything else to do she sometimes spent whole days with him, and no day passed without her spending several hours with Philippe: he sat in her lap as Cinderella read to him from some of the books she remembered her mother reading to her when she was very young, her arms wrapped around the young boy even as her hands held the book in front of him; she played with him in his room or in the garden, or watched as he played with his toys; she sang to him, and tried as best she could to help him with his lessons. Sometimes Eugene joined them, sometimes not. Most of all Cinderella smiled for him, and pretended that she had not a care or trouble in the world.

And thus the days crawled on towards the making of a new queen.

* * *

Eugene had just returned from riding when he found Mademoiselle Tremaine waiting for him in the stables.

He found himself going riding more and more often, if only as something to do. He probably should have followed Cinderella's example and taken advantage of his newfound idleness to spend more time with his son, but the truth was that he needed a way that he could rely on to work off the frustration that he was feeling. He didn't have Cinderella's gentle nature, nor her ability to put her feelings to one side. He could not have kept up for Philippe the facade that everything was fine the way that Cinderella could, not without some way of working off what he really felt.

It was intolerable! Everything about this revolted him. Vanessa revolted him, the way that Cinderella was being treated now revolted him, the way that his father had changed revolted him. And most of all the fact that he was so powerless in the face of all this revolted him. He felt as though he were trapped in one of those dreams where he could not act but only watch helpless as disaster unfolded. He couldn't protect Cinderella, he couldn't stop Vanessa, he couldn't change his father back the way he was. He couldn't do anything but watch as everything he loved was attacked.

It occurred to Eugene - he didn't want it to, but it did - that his father might be mad. It would explain the mood swings, the sudden change in his behaviour, his bizarre decisions. It could be true, but he hoped not. He would rather put all the blame on Vanessa rather than accept that something had stolen the true spirit of his father away from him forever.

And so he rode, and in the riding sought to sweat off all the frustrations that would otherwise have burst out of him in an explosion of unfair rage, possibly even at someone who deserved it least like Cinderella or Philippe.

Having stabled his horse, Eugene was just about to go in search of Cinderella - if she were not in her own chamber then she would be with Philippe in the nursery - when he noticed Mademoiselle Drizella Tremaine lurking in the shadows of the stables.

"What brings you here, Mademoiselle?" he asked, as he slung his saddle over his shoulder.

"I've been waiting for you, your highness," Drizella said as she slunk out of the darkness and into his view. She had a very strange expression on her face, one that Eugene could not comprehend.

"Did Cinderella send you to fetch me?" he asked.

Drizella laughed. It was not a particularly pleasant sound. "Cinderella? No, she's got no clue that I'm here." She took a step towards him, and then another. "I'm here for us."

Eugene was not terribly well-acquainted with his wife's stepsister - nor could he honestly say that he wanted to know her better - but it seemed to him that she was not speaking in her normal voice. She seemed to be trying for a higher pitch than normal, attempt to force a breathlessness into the way she spoke.

Eugene frowned. "Are you well, mademoiselle?"

Drizella licked her finger excessively slowly. "Oh, I am very well, your highness."

 _Then why are you behaving so strangely?_ Eugene cleared his throat. "Mademoiselle-"

"Please, Eugene, you must call me Drizella."

"For my part I would prefer your highness," Eugene said softly. It pleased Cinderella to indulge familiarity amongst her companions but that didn't mean he had to do the same, especially not with ones who hadn't yet proven themselves worthy of familiarity from anyone.

Drizella advanced upon him. "All of this must be very frustrating for you, your highness: your wife unable to pleasure you as a wife should."

"I think that's the least of my worries at the moment," Eugene replied. "Mademoiselle, I must say that you seem very odd today."

"I feel very bold today," Drizella replied. She was very close to him now, and began to paw at his shoulder like a cat. "It must be difficult, having a man's needs build up inside you like...like...like something building up inside of you. How you must long for...release."

Eugene's brow furrowed. This conversation was taking a turn that was almost surreal. "I assure you, mademoiselle, that I need no instruction on how to release myself; but I hardly think this is a conversation that I should have with a lady of my wife's household. If you will excuse me-"

Drizella laughed that odd laugh again. "There's no need to be coy, your highness, I know a bed for two is cold when used by one."

Eugene's eyes boggled. "You...Mad...Mademoiselle are you sure that you are not untouched by the heat? Perhaps you should go to bed and lie down."

"Oh, your highness!" Drizella beamed with delight. "Yes, I'll go to bed. Come, we'll go at once while Cinderella is preoccupied with that boy-"

She grabbed at Eugene but he pulled away from her. "Are you expecting me to go to bed with you?"

Drizella stared at him. "Isn't that what you meant?"

"No!" Eugene shouted. "Why would even assume such a thing?"

"Well you're father took a mistress so I don't see what's taking you so long!"

Eugene stared at her. "You...is this what this has been about? Are you...were you trying to seduce me? Do you really believe that I would betray Cinderella...with you?"

A look of hurt crossed Drizella's face but he didn't care, at this point he only cared about getting across to her how ridiculous this was and how little he desired to see this show repeated. He scowled at her. "I will say this once and thank you for remembering it: I am a married man and my wife's happiness is precious with me; I am not going to betray my vows with you or anyone else and quite frankly there is too much happening at the moment for me to have any patience with these ridiculous games! If Cinderella didn't have so much else to worry about I would tell her all about this and let her decide what to do with you, but as I don't want to upset her further I'm going to let it go. This time. Don't let it happen again."

And with that he strode past, not giving her a chance to reply.

* * *

Drizella fled through the palace in tears.

It wasn't fair! It wasn't her fault that she'd been born this way, while Cinderella had been born with beauty enough for all three sisters! Why should she have to suffer for something that wasn't her fault? Didn't her personality count for anything?

It wasn't fair! No one would ever look past her...looks and see her worth. Not even her own mother, maybe.

It wasn't fair...but there was nothing she could do about it.

Drizella stumbled her way into a sitting room, dark with the curtains drawn and no candles lit, with only a sliver of light getting in to chase away the gloom. She flung herself down upon the nearest settee and sobbed out her misfortune into a cushion.

It wasn't fair, what had Cinderella ever done to deserve to all of her good fortune. She was only a maid, and she was vain and spoiled and spiteful and she was such a show-off too. She'd always been like that, ever since they were girls. She'd thought she was better than Drizella and her sister because she was prettier than them, and could walk more gracefully than them; and everyone told her how pretty she was, and how graceful and charming and everything else and she lapped it up. She loved to be told how wonderful she was. Perfect precious princess Cinderella. Was it any wonder she and Anastasia had tried to drown the insufferable little brat in a pond the first chance they got?

And she was still showing off, rubbing Drizella's nose in everything she had. And she wouldn't even share her husband while she was pregnant.

It wasn't fair. Cinderella didn't deserve all her good fortune, and Drizella didn't deserve to be so miserable. It wasn't fair.

"The world is a cruel place for an ugly girl, isn't it?"

Drizella looked up from the cushion she'd been crying into. "Who said that? Who's there?"

"I am," Vanessa said, her voice soft as she emerged from out of the darkness and into the sliver of light coming in from the gap in the curtains.

Drizella's eyes widened. "Well...who are you calling ugly, anyway?"

Vanessa folded her arms. "You're not a foolish girl. You know the truth of what you are as well as I do."

"Doesn't mean you have to say it," Drizella muttered. "What do you want, anyway?"

Vanessa laughed. "What do I want? What do I want? I want the world and all its marvels, Drizella Tremaine. I want to see my son upon his father's throne. I want to see lords and common alike bow down before him. And I want to see Cinderella pay for all that she has done to me. That last, at least, should appeal to you, no?"

Drizella stared at her, and said nothing. _Is this a trick? Why is she telling me this?_

"What..." she hesitated. "What do you have against Cinderella?"

"She stole from me once, and when I tried to take what was rightfully mine she bested me and stole from me a second time." Vanessa said. "The third time we cross paths will pay for all."

"And why are you telling me this? If I tell-"

"Cinderella already knows the hate I bear for her," Vanessa said. "She would have to be more foolish than even I once thought her not to realise by now. You could tell her again, and she might even thank you, but her gratitude will not extend to a place in the prince's bed, nor will it stretch to land or income or even a good marriage. She made the little street rat Angelique a countess, and gave rich lands meek Marinette Gerard, but she will never grant you what you desire."

"But you can?"

"I cannot give Prince Eugene to you, he is marked for death," Vanessa said. "While he lives my own son would never be safe or secure upon the throne. But I can give you a grand title, wide estates, even a good marriage if you wish it. And I can give you something you want more than any of that: the chance to see Cinderella stripped of all her unearned glories, with all her pride and arrogance beaten out of her, laid low and destroyed. Isn't that what you want, Drizella Tremaine? Isn't that your heart's desire?"

Drizella nodded.

Vanessa's smile broadened. "I think that you and I are going to be very good friends."

* * *

The sheep, having eaten all of the grass in the little paddock in which they were corralled, were hungry. Etienne could hear them bleating in distress as he rode closer to the little hut on the moor.

This was the place, he was sure of it. He had followed the directions where Eugene had gone, and he had come to a place like that which his old friend had described: a shepherd's hut, with a score of sheep being kept nearby.

Judging by the hunger-induced distress of said sheep it didn't seem that anyone had been looking after them. Indeed, he couldn't see anyone nearby.

Etienne was starved of human companionship, but in deference to the fact that there was still a bear on the loose - albeit there had been no sightings since the attack on the princess that had started all of this insanity - he was accompanied by a pair of Irish wolfhounds with long, wiry grey coats. They padded along by the sides of his horse, their tongues hanging out of their mouths even as they sniffed the air. He was lucky to still have them; there were reports of dogs going missing all over the city. Mostly strays, and so not something he needed to look into urgently, but odd nonetheless.

 _No stranger than everything else that's been going on around here, I suppose,_ Etienne thought to himself.

He also had a hunting rifle slung from his saddle, in case he did come across the bear. Or anyone else who might mean him harm.

Etienne nudged his horse with his knees, urging the mare towards the sheep paddock.

"Hello?" he called. "Hello? Is there anyone here?"

The only answer was the bleating of the sheep as they milled about listlessly.

Etienne's dogs sniffed the air, but the wind was coming in from behind them, blowing their scent away from them rather than carrying any smells in their direction.

From atop his horse, Etienne leaned out slightly and opened up the gate keeping the sheep confined. The sheep spilled out, eager for fresh grass to feed on. At the very least he wouldn't starve to death, and he could let their rightful owner know where they were.

However, finding lost sheep wouldn't help him solve this business. He needed to find something that would-

Etienne stopped himself. He couldn't let his own feelings, or even the feelings of Lucrecia, get in the way of his search for the truth. It would certainly be convenient - if, as Lucrecia believed and as Etienne was inclined to believe too, Vanessa was behind the shutting of the palace gates in Lucrecia's face - if Vanessa turned out to be involved in a series of murders. But he was here to find the truth, not prove things that he already wanted to believe.

He cried out again, to as little response as before. There was no sound but the sheep, and the yapping of one of his hounds as it worried them.

Etienne called the dog to heel, and he was about to dismount from his horse when the wind changed.

The dogs began to growl at something, baring their teeth in the direction of the wooden hut. They had a scent, and they did not like it.

Etienne reached for his rifle.

The entire front of the shepherd's hut disintegrated as, with a roar, a great black bear charged out, smashing through the wall as it did so. It was still roaring as it charged straight for him, loping across the grass on all fours.

Etienne's eyes widened as he pulled his rifle from its rest. His horse whinnied in panic as the bear came closer. Etienne chose to ignore the horse for now as he pulled back the hammer on the rifle and pressed it to his shoulder. The sound of the rifle's report drowned out the pounding of his heart for a moment. The bear was half-obscured by smoke, he couldn't tell if he'd hit it or not. But it did not go down.

The bear's roar was answered by the barking of his wolfhounds as they assailed the bear from both sides, biting at its legs and sides. The bear, moving more slowly and sluggishly now, turned this way and then that to face them, but the dogs retreated out of danger and let their comrade attack the creature from the rear.

Etienne pulled out his pistol, took aim, and fired.

The bear moaned in pain, and staggered under the assault of shot and hound. For a moment it stood, like an old tree buffeted by strong wind. And then it fell, collapsing onto one side with a heavy thud.

The sheep continued to bleat in panic, but all the rest was silence.

Etienne reloaded his pistol just in case as the two wolfhounds circled around the body.

He watched carefully, but the bear did not move. He had heard that some bears would pretend to be dead and then, when the trophy hunter approached, rise up roaring and snarling and try and maul the offending huntsman. But this bear made no moves at all. It appeared perfectly still, and perfectly slain.

Before Etienne could contemplate whether a bearskin rug would look handsome on the floor of his drawing room, however, or even wonder why a bear would be hiding inside a shepherd's hut and not have eaten the sheep locked in a pen not far away, the strangest thing happened. The bear began to change. An inner light began to shine from the body, and his two dogs retreated away from it. The light burned, and the body transformed. The fur and claws and ursine form of the bear were shed and in its place, like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, there was a man.

A dead man. He had been shot three times, stabbed through the chest and savaged by a pair of Irish wolfhounds - there was no doubt in Etienne's mind that this was the same...thing that had mauled Lieutenant Taurillion as he defended the princess. Had he been a man at that time either shot or sabre would have been enough to finish him.

Etienne dismounted, and approached the body.

"My God," he gasped. For he recognised the dead man as Anatole du Montcalm.


	17. Confined

Confined

Grace bustled into the King's study with a convincing appearance of haste. "Louis! Louis, I have terrible news!"

She came to a halt, and took a deep breath as though she had run to get here. "I was right. About Cinderella, and about your son. They are faithless, Louis, utterly without loyalty to you. I'm so sorry, my darling, but I was right. I would give anything not to be but…we cannot always have the things we wish for so badly." _I know that lesson very well, or why would I be settling for my second choice?_

The king looked up at her from his writing desk. By the looks of things he had been trying to write, but had not succeeded in making much progress. That was a side-effect of the love potion still at work within his brain: he would find it hard to concentrate on anything but her, or that did not touch on her in any way. Even now he looked befuddled, confused, as if he didn't understand what she was saying.

"My…my dear…my heart," he mumbled. "I…what are you saying?"

"I have the proof I spoke to you of," Grace said, her voice calm and soft and unfailingly patient; the same sort of tone that Cinderella used on that stepson she delighted to play mother to. "The proof…" she bowed her head, and assumed an expression of great regret as if this wasn't what she had been searching for all along. "The proof that Cinderella and Eugene are plotting against you. Against both of us. Please protect me, Louis, I'm so afraid."

The King was on his feet in a moment, rushing around his writing desk to clasp her hands within his firm embrace. "Be brave, sweetheart, all will be well. No harm will come to you, I guarantee it." He scowled. "To think, that I once embraced that viper to my bosom. To think that I doted on her as my own daughter, and all along she was using and deceiving me."

 _Ah, irony._ "I know, Louis, you must feel so broken-hearted."

"How could I feel broken hearted over that wanton wretch when I have you to comfort me?" the King asked fondly. "Now, what is this proof? Show it to me, and I will instantly have them both thrown into the dungeons for this foul work!"

"Contain yourself," Vanessa said, bending down to whisper into his ear. "I know your wrath, my king, but you must be as wise as a serpent yourself in confronting these vipers. You must not put the strong law upon Cinderella, for she is loved by the credulous multitudes who, judging not with their wits but with their hearts, cannot see the forked tongue that lies behind her smile. If you arrest her there will be riots in the streets." _Thank you, Serena, for teaching me that lesson._ She and Serena had both underestimated the sheer amount of raw support that Cinderella possessed amongst the common people. Who knew that all you had to do to be popular was lower grain tariffs? In fairness – much as she hated to be fair to Cinderella – Grace suspected that her low birth and humble story might have something to do with it to. Cinderella wasn't just the People's Princess because she was beloved of the People but because she had been one of the People before Prince Eugene plucked her from obscurity.

Regardless of where exactly their love for Cinderella came from, regardless of whether you thought she deserved it, the fact was that the common people loved their Princess of Hearts more than they loved their king, and it would not matter what proofs were presented of her treachery, the mob would rise up anyway. Thus, even when Grace had been planning to dispose of Cinderella in such a way that would leave her dead to the world, as it were, it would have been necessary to remove her discreetly from the scene. Grace had been planning something simple: an illness that would be announced in the papers and explain Cinderella's absence, and then an explanation that the beloved princess had miscarried her child and died from the ensuing complications. So sad. Such a tragedy.

Now, of course, her agreement with Drizella would lead to a revision of that approach.

The King looked up at her. "What would you have me do? Treason cannot be tolerated!"

"Nor shall we tolerate it," Grace replied. "But we will invite worse than treason if we move too hard against the snakes in the grass. For Cinderella's part, it was already planned that she should be expelled from the rooms which she has so vainly claimed, despite them being a queen's rightful apartments, and move her to quarters more fitting for her lower station. Let her be confined there, separated from the ladies with whom she plots and the servants who run her errands, and set under the close watch and guard of trustworthy attendants loyal to your majesty. Once Prince Eugene is dealt with she will be powerless, and can be released at leisure."

The King nodded at that. He would have nodded at practically any thought that she put into his head. "But Eugene…him I can…I mean I should…"

"You may deal with him, my love, as a traitor deserves," Grace said. Prince Eugene was somewhat popular – he was, after all, the man who had won the American War – but not noticeably more so than his father, and not in such a way as to inspire the people to rise onto the streets for him. He had none of the common touch, he barely seemed to look down and notice those beneath him; had she not known better Grace might have suspected that he had married a commoner in order to make himself seem less remote.

There was the question of the popularity that he borrowed from his wife – people who assumed that there must be something about him they didn't see for such a beloved girl as Cinderella to love him – but some of Drizella's accusations should be sufficient to take care of that.

The King blinked. "My dear…my son…he…I…a traitor. They are both traitors. They…I love th- No. No, I hate them both! I hate them both for their betrayal of me!"

"And quite right too, they are unworthy of the love of so good a man as yourself. Drizella! The time has come."

Drizella Tremaine was not so good an actor as Grace herself, in her own opinion anyway, but she made a fairly decent job of looking nervous as she walked into the study.

Grace pulled her hands free of the King's grasp and walked over to stand by Drizella's side. "This is Drizella Tremaine, Cinderella's stepsister and closest confidante." Had the King been in possession of all his wits he would have disputed that barefaced lie, but in his current state he would not notice it. "She came to me with very disturbing news. I hated to believe it, but I am positive that she's telling the truth."

She embraced Drizella about the shoulders. "Tell his majesty everything that you told me. And don't be afraid. There's no need to be nervous."

 _And get it right, we spent an hour rehearsing this._

 _And it isn't even as if its all made up._

"Y-your majesty," Drizella murmured. "I…I spend a lot of time with Cinderella, and so I've heard everything that she and…that she and Prince Eugene have said…about you and about what they plan to do to you and I can't keep quiet any longer…"

Drizella poured out her tale before the King. Actually, to say poured out was to give Drizella Tremaine a little too much credit at points: from the way that she'd stumbled you'd never guess that she and Grace had actually gone over this in advance, and frankly Grace didn't have enough confidence in Drizella's acting skills to think that this was deliberate on her part. She just couldn't remember what they'd agreed she ought to say.

But she managed to get through her account. Some of it was even true, just as some of Grace's lies had been sweetened with the taste of a little truth to them.

Drizella had told Grace all that she knew, which wasn't as much as Grace might have liked but it was enough. It seemed that Cinderella's ladies-in-waiting, her faithful friends and companions, had not been shy in complaining at the way that she was being treated by the King under her control. Lady Christine Roux had even suggested that His Majesty might be mad.

 _Christine, you couldn't have done any better if you were actually on my side._

From there, it was only a short hop to 'Cinderella and Eugene are plotting to have you removed from power on pretence of madness', and that was the lie that Drizella fed the King. And Grace could barely restrain her smile as she saw the King eat it up like a delicious desert.

"I'm sorry for not coming to tell you all this sooner, your majesty," Drizella said. "But Cinderella is my sister and I love her so much. But I…I came to…I came…to realise that…that my loyalty-"

"She realised that her loyalty to the crown outweighed her loyalty to her family, and so she told me everything," Grace said, rescuing Drizella from the consequences of her poor memory. "And that's not all, tell him the last."

Drizella folded her arms across her chest. "Prince Eugene tried to take advantage of me to stop me from talking! I know that he's been after me for some time but I'm such a virtuous woman that I would never give in to him and I told him so! I told him-"

"Yes, thank you, dear, I think we understand," Grace said. "Such beastliness, don't you think, Louis?"

That last was more for the benefit of Cinderella's enthusiastic supporters outside the palace walls. They might look fondly upon Prince Eugene for the mere fact of being her husband, but they would be calling for his execution when they found out that he had even tried to cheat upon beloved Cinderella. Eugene would die and the people would cheer his passing.

 _Our mistake, Serena, was in trying to match the mob with our own force; much better to manipulate them into doing your work._

 _Like I'm manipulating everyone else._

The King's face was red with fury. "I will not suffer this! I will not stand for it for one moment! Where are my guards? Guards!"

"Discretion, love, we must use some discretion," Grace said. "Until Cinderella is in our hands we cannot reveal our purpose too early. We must use some guile in this." She smiled. "Fortunately, Mademoiselle Drizella and I have an idea on that front."

* * *

Angelique pounded up the stairs from her own room to Cinderella's apartments; she tripped twice on the stairs - she'd gotten better at walking in a dress, but running in one was still a bit of a struggle - but she ignored the sensations of pain in her knees and kept on running because if she was right about this then things were about to get very, _very_ bad and they didn't have long to get in front of it.

Jean was guarding the door; that was good, that was the best that Angelique could have hoped for. He held up one hand as he saw her running up the stairs towards him. "Angelique, what's wrong?"

Angelique took a deep breath. "Drizella's sold out the princess, or is selling her out right now; I don't know how far it goes but I know that she's with Vanessa now and that means trouble for all of us."

Jean didn't ask how she knew that, he took it on trust that she wouldn't lie to him. She appreciated that, even if she didn't have time to tel him just how much that was the case. A scowl consumed his scarred face. "It is an ill thing that the princess is betrayed by her own kindness and compassion; what sort of world is this where virtue is punished and vice rewarded?"

"We're not quite there yet, thank goodness," Angelique said. "But I'm worried about what she knows." _I should have seen this coming, why didn't I see this coming?_

"What do you mean?"

Angelique abruptly remembered that Jean didn't know about Vanessa's plan to fit up Cinderella and Prince Eugene for treason. _I should have told him, he wouldn't have asked how I knew._ "Short story: Vanessa is out to get Cinderella, Drizella has heard a lot of conversations going on in these rooms and I'm afraid that she can twist what she heard against the princess. So I need you to get all your men, and don't let anyone up these stairs whom you don't trust, okay?"

Jean looked into her eyes, and then nodded. "You can rely on me, Angelique."

"I always do."

Jean brushed past her as he started to descend the staircase. "Sergeant Bourgogne!"

The sergeant appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Sir?"

"Rally the men," Jean said. "And be ready for trouble."

Angelique burst into Cinderella's bedroom. "Cinderella?"

"Angelique? I'm in here?" Cinderella replied from the sitting room.

Angelique ran in, in time to see Cinderella rising from the settee, a book clasped in her white-gloved hands. Oscar and Penny stood behind her, trying and succeeding in looking unobtrusive.

"Is something wrong?" Cinderella asked. "You sound very anxious."

Angelique hesitated. Her mouth was dry, and not from the run up the stairs. To be honest, from the moment that the mice had told her what Drizella had done...she might have run up the stairs to bring this news but at the same time she had been dreading that she would have to do this. Cinderella had believed in her stepsister, believed that they could move past the antagonism of her earlier years and build something between them; she had insisted upon the point in the teeth of everyone else's opinion and in spite of Drizella's own behaviour. Angelique took no pleasure in being right and she took even less pleasure in proving Cinderella wrong.

It was as Jean said: it was a terrible thing for Cinderella's kindness to be answered with malice, for the outstretched hand of friendship and sisterly love to be spat upon.

"It's...it's Drizella," Angelique said. "She's with Vanessa now."

Cinderella pursed her lips together. "You...you don't just mean that she's in the same room, do you?"

"No," Angelique said, speaking slowly with a softness born of reluctance. "She's on her side. She's joined with her to..." she searched for a way to say 'to get you'.

By the look on Cinderella's face she didn't need to say it. The princess paled, and she fell back onto the settee that she'd been sitting on as the book fell from her hands.

She bowed her head, and her lustrous strawberry blonde hair fell over her shoulders and hid half her face from Angelique's view, like curtains being drawn across a window. "Drizella...she..." Cinderella looked up into Angelique's eyes. "I'm sure that you want to say it, so go on. I deserve to hear it."

"I take no pleasure in this," Angelique replied. "It brings me no joy to...to see you upset."

Cinderella's face was a picture of misery. She closed her eyes. "All I wanted was a sister," Cinderella moaned. "That's all I ever wanted, ever since...ever since I was a girl. A childish dream that I should have gotten over a long time ago." Cinderella opened her eyes. "Serena, Grace, Theodora, Drizella; perhaps my stepmother was right all along, perhaps I should have become hard and cold if I wanted to survive here."

"If you were hard and cold I would have taken my leave of you by now," Angelique said. "There are no honours you could pile onto my head would make me stay and serve a princess with a heart of ice. I'm sorry about Drizella; I'm sorry that you couldn't have the sister that you wanted. But you have a husband who loves you, a stepson who adores you, three friends who'd do anything you asked us to, Jean would die for you if need be...that is what your kind heart has got you and that...that's not nothing. Do you think an icy-hearted princess would have as much?"

Cinderella stared at her. "Why do you think she hates me, Drizella? Why do you think she...I thought that if we only started anew then we could be true sisters. What did I do wrong, Angelique? What should I have done better to-"

"I think you should have remembered that she needed to want it as much as you did," Angelique said. "You can't blame yourself, we need to think about how bad this could get and what we're going to do now."

Cinderella's eyes widened. "You think that she'll-"

"I think there have been things said in these rooms that might not sound too good if they were to be presented in the wrong light."

"Do you think that will be enough?" Cinderella asked. "To...to prove that..."

"I think that His Majesty beat you across the face with a stick for no other reason than he thought you were up to something," Angelique said. "Do you want to take the risk that he won't act if Drizella goes and confesses that we've been talking about how he's mad and needs to be removed from power?"

Cinderella sighed. Her voice, when it came, was laden with a mixture of weariness and melancholy. "No. No, I don't. Angelique, I'm sorry to ask this, but I need you to go and find Eugene, tell him what you've just told me and tell him...tell him that I think we should take our trip to the Summer Palace early."

"You think that will be enough to get away from her?"

"I'm afraid not," Cinderella said. "But it's better than nothing, isn't it? And then could you please bring Philippe and his grandmother back here? I'll send for the rest of my ladies and tell them that they should leave; their families ought to be able to protect them. Angelique, I think you should come with us. I know you're a countess but-"

"But I don't have a family, I see what you mean," Angelique murmured. Cinderella made a good point, with what was going on right now the chances of Angelique being able to accomplish anything by staying here were slim. She might even end up in a cell somewhere. "I...yes, I'll come with you, if we can get out. I'll go tell the prince now."

"Thank you, I'll start packing right away," Cinderella said, getting up and walking towards the bell pull by the door. "Oscar, Penny, I know that this isn't what you're here for, but could you help me, please?"

Angelique didn't stick around to hear their reply, she headed for the door, crossing the bedroom and exiting out onto the little landing before the staircase.

"How dare you! Who do you even think you are anyway? Move aside this instant!"

Angelique looked down the stairs to see Drizella trying to get up towards Cinderella's rooms, and being forestalled by Jean and a half dozen of his men on the landing below.

"You'll get no closer to her highness than this, I promise you," Jean said.

"I demand that you-"

"You've got a nerve," Angelique snapped as she began to descend the stairs.

Drizella looked up at Angelique. She looked as though she had been crying, but right now there was no sorrow in her eys, only the habitual distaste with which she regarded Angelique. "What are you talking about?" Drizella demanded. "This is your doing, isn't it? You're the one responsible, aren't you? Out of my way, I need to see Cinderella this instant!"

"Really?" Angelique said. She did not descend all the way to the landing; since Drizella was taller than she was Angelique stayed sufficient stairs up to be able to look down upon the other woman. She folded her arms. "And why do you need to speak to her so urgently?"

Drizella shudered theatrically. "Because Prince Eugene just tried to assault me and I think Cinderella deserves to know about it as soon as possible!"

Angelique laughed. It escaped her mouth before she could stifle it. She fought to control herself. "Prince Eugene...I'm half tempted to let you up so I can see how she'd react to you telling her that."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"Yes," Angelique said. "And as much as Cinderella might have trusted you, I'm certain that she trust her husband more. More importantly I know who's side you're really on and so does she, so you're not getting any further up these stairs." Angelique didn't bother to ask what Drizella's plan had been, because she thoght she could guess: Cinderella wouldn't have believed Eugene would either be unfaithful to her or that he would try and force himself on another woman, but she wouldn't believe - she wouldn't want to believe - that Drizella would make up malicious lies about something like that either. She would suggest they go talk to Eugene, to clear up the misunderstanding; and so she would leave the relative safety of the tower and walk into some trap or some kind.

 _Thank god the mice found me in time._

Drizella licked her lips. "It would be best if she just came downstairs."

"Best for who?" Angelique demanded.

"She's going to have to come out of there one way or another."

"You don't feel even a hint of shame, do you?"

"What have I got to be ashamed of?"

Angelique snorted. "Go and tell your new mistress that we know what you're up to and it isn't going to work."

Drizella's eyes narrowed. "This isn't over," she declared, before she turned away and stalked haughtily back down the stairs from which she had come.

Jean looked up at Angelique. "Do you think we should have held her here?"

"I doubt Cinderella would approve of that, and even if she did would there be much point?" Angelique asked. "I thought you had more men than this."

"The others are still coming, I hope," Jean said.

"Right," Angelique murmured. She turned, and headed back up the stairs into Cinderella's chambers.

"We might already be out of time," she said.

"What do you mean?" Cinderella asked.

"Drizella was just here, trying to see you," Angelique said. "She wanted to tell you that Prince Eugene had assaulted her, apparently."

Cinderella's eyes widened. "But Eugene would never do anything like that!"

"I thought you'd say that," Angelique said. "But what would you have done if she had come to you with a story like that, and you still trusted her."

Cinderella was silent in thought for a moment. "I'd think it must be some kind of misunderstanding, and suggest we go and see Eugene to straighten it out."

Angelique nodded. "I suspect they've got some fellows down there waiting for you to do just that. I've told Drizella you won't come down but-"

"But now they might come up," Cinderella murmured. "But Eugene would never...oh, my, you don't think-"

"I don't know," Angelique said. "And right now we need to worry about you."

Cinderella pursed her lips together. "But if they're already down stairs, waiting at the bottom of the tower...there's no other way down."

Oscar coughed into her hand. "With respect, princess, that isn't entirely true. We can use the secret passages to get around them if you want."

"Of course we could if we knew where they..." Angelique stopped. She blinked. Her eyes bulged a little. "Are you saying you know how to get into the secret passages?"

Oscar nodded. "I found the way in second day I was here. Me and Penny have been exploring them bit by bit." She hesitated. "Did I forget to tell you that?"

"Yes you forgot to tell us!" Angelique snapped. "How did you...how?"

Oscar shrugged. "Jean told me that some creeper had been using secret passages to sneak around and spy on the princess while she slept so I thought it was important to know where they were."

"But Jean and I spent ages trying to find them and didn't come up with anything," Angelique protested.

Oscar's expression was one of almost feline smugness. "I suppose that's the difference between a professional and amateur, isn't it?"

"How much do you know about where they go?" Cinderella asked.

"There are tunnels going all over the place in this tower, your highness," Penny said. "I think there are peepholes and secret doors to every single room in this part of the palace. We could probably get everybody you want to out, easily. The news isn't so good outside of this tower, where do you want to go?"

"We need to find Eugene," Cinderella said. "But...I'm afraid I don't know where he is."

"If he's in his room then it would be a cinch," Penny said. "There's a secret entrance into his room as well. Might make things convenient once everything's back to normal."

Oscar coughed. "Thank you, Penny, I'm sure the princess appreciates that." She coughed again. "There are more peepholes than entrances, so we can look for him at least."

"I see," Cinderella murmured. "And what about the rooms of Philippe and his grandmother?"

Oscar winced. "The nearest way in or out is a whole floor down, your highness."

Cinderella closed her eyes. She didn't say that she wasn't going to leave her stepson behind, but she didn't have to either. Angelique knew her well enough to know that she would never consider an alternative.

"Alright," Cinderella said. "We'll gather everyone from this tower, then get Philippe and get for Eugene and then...have you found a passage out of the palace?"

Oscar glanced at Penny, who shook her head.

"No, princess."

Cinderella nodded. "Alright. Well...once we've found Eugene I'm sure we'll think of something." She ran - Angelique reflected on how rare it was to see the princess run anywhere - to the bedroom door. "Jean? Would you come up here please?"

Jean came quickly when summoned, sweeping his shako off his head and bowing that same head to the princess. "Highness?"

"I want you to tell your men downstairs to surrender, Jean," Cinderella said. "I'm sure Vanessa won't hurt them, she has no reason to."

Jean frowned. "But...your highness, we are here to protect you. If we surrender then-"

"We're escaping via the secret passages," Angelique explained.

"But we don't know how to get at the secret passages."

"Hello!" Penny said, in a cheery voice that matched the wave of her hand.

"You asked us to come and work here and you didn't expect us to find a secret door?" Oscar asked.

Jean smiled. "Forgive me for underestimating you."

"Now you see," Cinderella said. "Jean, I want you to come with us while we gather everyone else."

"I would rather stay here and buy time for the rest of you."

"No," Angelique said. "Absolutely not."

"If Vanessa is able to find the secret passages as easily as Oscar did-"

"Hey, there's no way that any rich girl playing shepherdess is going to have our skills," Oscar declared.

"Even so," Jean said. "She will surely learn what you have done, so any delay that I can give you can only help you, your highness. Help all of you."

"And what state will you be in when you're done with this last stand or whatever you're doing?" Angelique demanded.

"Now, Angelique, that's quite enough," Cinderella said softly. She reached out, and stroked Jean's unscarred cheek with one hand. "You're very brave, Jean. I think you're probably the bravest person I know. But there wouldn't be any point at all to me escaping without you, because if Vanessa captured you then she could just threaten you to make me do whatever she wanted, just like Grace did." She smiled. "I'm afraid I couldn't bring myself to stand by and watch you get hurt."

It was not often that Cinderella demonstrated an ability to manipulate people; in fact it was a skill she exercised so rarely that Angelique couldn't have been the only one who forgot that she had such a skill. But as she watched Jean's face, as she watched Cinderella's softly spoken words move him in ways that Angelique's wrath had not, Angelique could barely keep her admiration off her face. Truly, it was masterfully done: Jean was too brave to flinch from danger, but he couldn't countenance putting Cinderella in danger by his actions.

Jean's back straightened. "In that case, your highness, I will of course obey your every command. I apologise for my thoughtless foolishness."

"That's quite alright," Cinderella said, as she kissed him on the cheek - the scarred cheek, to show it did not disgust her. "I don't know what I'd do without my hero."

Angelique was reminded on Cinderella's wedding day, and the way that Cinderella had pre-emptively silenced any objections to her taking Jean and Angelique into her service. _If she showed this side of her more often I bet she wouldn't have half the trouble in politics that she's had to put up with._

 _She probably doesn't like doing it._

Angelique resolved to discuss it further once their situation was less hectic and possibly perilous, but for now they had to escape.

* * *

Etienne raced towards the palace. The hooves of his horse echoed on the cobbled streets as he galloped her down the boulevards.

He had heard of magic before, and not just in fairy tales and children's stories; Lady Bonnet swore blind that Grace du Villeroi had been some kind of witch, using magic against the princess. Etienne had not really believed her, because it was hard to believe in something like that which he had never seen. But now he had seen a bear, unmistakably the same bear which had nearly savaged Princess Cinderella, the same bear that had injured Lieutenant Taurillion, the same bear which was responsible for this whole chain of events, transform on death into Anatole du Montcalm, a man last known to have fled the consequences of his treason in the company of Grace du Villeroi.

It was incredible; it was something else he might not have believed if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes; but he had seen it happen right in front of him: the bear had died, and in death it had become Anatole, Anatole bearing the wounds that Jean Taurillion had dealt him. If that wasn't magic then what on earth was it?

And once you accepted that magic was real then all sorts of possibilities opened themselves up before him.

Start with the facts. It was a fact that Anatole du Montcalm had been turned into a bear. Either he had done it to himself or somebody had done it to him. If you accepted that Grace du Villeroi was a witch as Lady Bonnet said then it made sense to assume, since they had last been seen together, that she had done it to him.

And when you considered the way that Anatole had behaved - hiding, and only emerging when the wind changed and Etienne's dogs caught his scent - it was viable to suppose that he had retained some degree of human intelligence.

 _Someone - let's say Lady Grace - turned Anatole into a bear. Why?_

 _To attack Princess Cinderella? Why, to kill her?_

 _No. To attack Princess Cinderella and not kill her._

Because it was the rescue of the princess that was the root from which all else had flowed. Everything: His Majesty coming to the acquaintance of the shepherdess Vanessa, him taking her first to mistress and then to wife; it all comes to that day.[/i]

And Vanessa didn't move like a woman unused to ballgowns; she moved like someone who had been wearing them for half her life. Not like a shepherdess, but like a lady.

And just like that, Etienne had it. He had very little proof, and a lot of his assumptions were founded upon sheer guesswork when it came to what 'magic' could or could not accomplish, but he had it. The dead body he had found in the storm belonged to the missing shepherdess Vanessa; Lady Grace had kidnapped her, and - using magic, assuming it could do such a thing - she had stolen her appearance and in so doing killed her. She had killed the girl's father, too, to prevent him from causing trouble. And then she had transformed Anatole du Montcalm into a bear and staged an attack upon the princess from which she would rescue said princess, making herself look like a hero and giving her an in with the royal family, particularly the King.

And now she was about to become Queen of Armorique.

A crown that she had murdered two people to attain.

She needed to face justice for that; she would face justice for that.

Vanessa's mother had died long before, there had been no one in her life but her father who was also dead. No one would mourn for them, but Etienne vowed that he would remember, and get justice for them both.

There remained, however, the question of obtaining justice. He had no proof, not even that Anatole and the bear were one and the same. No one but him had seen the transformation. He was yet unsure how he would prove any of this...honestly he was a little unsure of whether or not he could prove it.

But in the meantime he had to warn the prince and princess that their enemy was ensconced in the heart of their fortress.

Etienne galloped his horse through the city streets, heedless of the gawping gazes that his haste attracted, and rode through the open gates of the palace. He reined in just long enough for the guards upon the gate to recognise him - his haste was not quite so great that was willing to risk being shot - before spurring his mare on again with the nudge of his knees. Her hooves rang upon the stone as he rode around the palace to the stables, throwing his reins at a nearby groom with a bark of 'See to my horse!' as Etienne leapt from the saddle.

"Where is Prince Eugene, have you seen him?" Etienne asked. He knew that Eugene had taken to going riding over the last few days, and he hoped that his friend might have only lately returned.

"I don't know sir," the groom said. "He returned from riding about an hour ago."

Etienne nodded, and tossed a silver shilling at the lad for his assistance. "Don't stable that horse, hold her ready for when I return."

"Yes, sir."

Etienne entered the palace via one of the side entrances nearest to the stable. Unfortunately, with over an hour since he had returned from his ride Eugene could be almost anywhere in the palace by now. If he were not with Cinderella in her rooms, or with Philippe in his room, then he might be almost anywhere. He headed in the direction of the Queen's Tower, on the logic that if Eugene wasn't up there with Cinderella then Cinderella might be there by herself, and she might know where Eugene was and even if she didn't she needed as much warning about Etienne's suspicions as he did. And if neither of them were there then hopefully someone - Lady Bonnet, for instance - would know where they both were.

He was about to open the door which led from the corridor he was in to the hall at the foot of the Queen's Tower when he heard what sounded like Vanessa's voice - which was to say Grace's voice if he was right - on the other side. Etienne waited, one hand on the door, and bent down to listen at the keyhole. He had no desire to reveal himself to Grace before the time was right.

"She will not come down?" asked Grace (even though he had no proof that it was her Etienne found it difficult to keep from thinking of her by that name now).

"That little brat Angelique wouldn't even let me see her," Drizella replied in a tone of high dudgeon. "They knew, somehow."

"Rodents," Grace hissed. "I'd forgotten that she could use them that way. I wonder how long she's had them following me for." She sighed. "This is my fault, I should have...if I'd remembered then I would have kept my fangs more carefully hidden until...ah, well, what's past is past and cannot be changed. If they will not come down then we must drag them out."

Etienne froze, as a feeling like a ball of ice formed in the pit of his stomach. _Drag them out? Has she turned the King so completely against the princess?_ To that he might add 'against the prince' as well, for Prince Eugene would never allow his beloved Cinderella to be dragged anywhere if he had any say in the matter. Where was Eugene? Had they taken him already?

 _And what do I do now?_ It wasn't only the princess up in that tower, but his sister too. Etienne took his ear from the keyhole and tried to peer through it instead, to very little result it must be admitted except to catch sight of a great deal of red on the other side of the door. The red coats of the Queen's Regiment, most like, those snarling soldiers without voices. He could not fight off a multitude, but he couldn't allow Marinette to be harmed either. And where was His Highness?

Etienne's hands clenched into fists. He would wait, and see what Grace or Vanessa brought back down the stairs again. With luck, the opportunity to act with hope of success would soon present itself.

* * *

The entrance to the secret passageway was dark. Cinderella couldn't see anything inside. It was just a gaping black hole in the wall, a void that threatened to swallow her hole.

A void that she would have to walk into.

 _Please, Stepmother, please don't put me back in there. Please, Stepmother, I'll be good, I promise._

 _Please, please, I'm begging you._

Cinderella could already feel her chest begin to heave with nervousness at the thought of going in there.

 _I have no choice. There is no choice._

If she didn't go in there then Vanessa would catch her and then…and then who knew what the other woman might do to her. Who knew what the King might do to her, he didn't love her if he ever had.

"We can't have any lights in there," Oscar said. "They might be seen through the peepholes and it would give us away. But don't worry, I can see in the dark like a cat so I'll go first. Penny will be right behind me. Princess, will you come next?"

"I'll go next," Angelique said. "And Cinderella will be behind me." She glanced up at Cinderella, and smiled. Cinderella realised that it was intended to be reassuring.

 _She knows,_ Cinderella remembered. Because it was Angelique and Marinette who had found her, locked in her own wardrobe, crying as she shrieked and screamed and begged to be let out of the cramped, dark space.

 _I'll be good, I promise._

"I will bring up the rear," Jean said.

Oscar nodded. "Everyone keep hold of the person in front and behind them so we don't get separated. Everybody ready?"

Angelique and Jean nodded. Cinderella took a deep breath, and closed her eyes for a moment. "I…I'm ready. Yes. Let's go."

Angelique held out her left hand, while with her right she grabbed hold of Penny. Cinderella slipped her right hand into Angelique's open palm, feeling her grip through the silk of her glove. She held her left hand behind her, and felt Jean take it with a firm grasp that lacked Eugene's delicacy of touch.

And one by one, they walked into the darkness of the secret passage with Oscar at their head. For Cinderella, when her turn came, it was like walking into night from day, as if the sunshine outside had been abruptly snuffed out and the whole world plunged into darkness. Darkness pressing all around her. She could dimly feel – or perhaps it would be better to say that she could hear the slight rustling sound – her dress against the narrow walls of the passage, narrow walls that also pressed around her. She felt as though she could feel the ceiling just barely higher than her head.

She could feel and hear but she could see very little; the light coming in from the open passage door was barely enough for her to make out Angelique.

And then Jean shut the door behind them and the last light entering the tunnel was wholly extinguished.

Perhaps that was a slight exaggeration, there was still a narrow beam of light coming in from the peephole which Lucien had used to spy on her, but it was barely anything, and it did nothing at all to drive away the darkness. Cinderella couldn't see anything. It was as though she had wandered far from home on a moonless night and gotten lost on a moor somewhere, except that even on a wild and desolate heath there would have been multiple directions in which she could have turned. Here there was nothing but the close, and the dark. She couldn't see Angelique, let alone Penny or Oscar. She couldn't see her own dress of shimmering white. She couldn't see the walls but she could feel them, pressing down upon her, boxing her in, squeezing her.

Cinderella couldn't hear her footsteps on the soft floor – carpeted? Whoever had built these passages must not have wanted to be heard coming and going – but she could hear her breath as it started to run short. She gasped, but she couldn't breathe, not really. She couldn't breathe, she felt as though she could barely walk. She couldn't do anything except boggle with wide eyes at the darkness and feel the walls close in around her. She had to get out of here. She had to get out of here or she was going to start screaming.

"Your highness?" Jean hissed from behind her. "Your highness, are you alright?"

"Oh no," Angelique said.

"What's going on?" Oscar demanded, her tone no less demanding for being a whisper.

"Stop for a minute, alright."

"What did you just let go of me for?"

"Stay where you are and I'll find you again, but give me a minute," Angelique said.

Cinderella felt Angelique's other hand, gripping her wrist.

"It's alright," Angelique said, and though they all had a need to be quiet Angelique's tone was more soft than merely muted. "Cinderella, it's alright. I'm right here. We're right here."

"Aye, your highness," Jean said. "We both are."

Cinderella tried to nod – although they wouldn't be able to see it any more than she could see either of them. But her breathing kept coming quicker and quicker, and the walls were so tight around her and it was all just so dark and she just couldn't and _please don't put me back in there-_

She felt Angelique's arms wrapped around her waist.

"It's alright, princess," she whispered. "It's alright now."

Jean gripped her hand with both of his. "Please don't be afraid, princess. Don't be afraid of anything."

Cinderella closed her eyes – it was no more dark than it was before – and let out all the breath that remained to her in her lungs. She breathed deeply, and more calmly than before. Angelique remained where she was, holding on to Cinderella warmly until her breath was wholly calm again and she no longer…no longer felt as though she had to get out at all costs.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you both." _I owe them so much._

"Are you ready to go?" Angelique asked.

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I think I am."

They followed Oscar's lead, picking up Marinette and Augustina and Duchamp and even Christine along the way, all of them creeping through the secret passages in the wake of the girl who swore she had eyes like a cat as she guided them through the labyrinth like…who was that girl who guided someone through a labyrinth? Cinderella had missed the most important years of her education and didn't remember all the things a young lady ought to. She thought it began with an A.

Anyway, Oscar led them through these tunnels, and as far as Cinderella could tell she did not steer them wrong. They stopped every now and then, and looked out through the peepholes, but they saw no sign of Eugene, nor did they hear anyone talking of him.

 _Where are you, Eugene? Please be alright._

It was still dark, but Cinderella felt more able to bear it now. She didn't _like_ it by any means, but the presence of her dear friends meant that she wasn't about to start screaming any more.

Oscar led them what felt like across the entire palace, and it seemed that that was exactly where she had led them as she said, "This is the nearest door to the young lad's room. It's up one level and…I'm sure you can find it."

"Thank you, Oscar," Cinderella said softly. "Everyone wait here, I'll be back soon with Philippe and his grandmother."

"You shouldn't go alone," Jean said. "What if someone sees you, your highness."

"Then you'll be able to rescue me, won't you Jean?" Cinderella asked. "I don't see any reason why everyone should risk getting caught when only one of us needs to."

"I'm not everyone, your highness."

"How about I'll go get the boy, he knows me," Angelique said.

"He's my stepson," Cinderella said, not mentioning the fact that she also wanted to get out of this dark, confined space, if only for a little while.

"You take too may risks with yourself," Augustina muttered. "Some day you must learn better."

Cinderella didn't reply to that, although it was beyond sweet of them to care so. Oscar opened the door for her, and then shut it behind them once Cinderella climbed out. It looked like any other part of the wall, but Cinderella was sure that she could remember where it was.

She looked around, there were no guards, or even servants. She couldn't see anyone, and there was no sound to suggest that anyone had seen her either.

She crept upstairs; still there was no one in evidence. There was no guard on Philippe's door, there were no servants, there was no one at all. Cinderella walked quickly but softly – as softly as she could – to the door of the nursery. She pushed it open, as slowly as she could, taking a peek inside as she did so.

There was no sign of Madame Clairval, but she did see Philippe alone, sitting on the floor in front of his wooden castle, playing with his knights and soldiers.

Cinderella slipped in, and closed the door behind her.

"Philippe," she called softly.

He looked around and beamed at her. "Stepmother!" he cried loudly.

Cinderella put one finger to her lips as she crossed the room to join him. "Hush now, sweet boy, you mustn't be so loud. Where's your grandmother?"

"I don't know," he admitted, not as quiet as she might have liked but no longer shouting either. "Someone took her away, but I don't know where."

Cinderella frowned. _Where would they have taken her, and why would they leave Philippe?_ She put on a brave face and a smile for the young boy. "Why don't we try and look for her as we go?"

"Go where?"

Cinderella knelt down in front of him. "You and I and some of my friends – like Angelique, you remember her – are going to go on a bit of a journey. We're going to find your father and go on a tribe to a beautiful place out in the country called the Summer Palace. I'm sure you'll love it there just as much as I do. But we must be quiet, because there are bad people looking for us, do you understand."

Philippe nodded.

"Of course you do," Cinderella said. "And I need…I need you to be brave for me, Philippe, because…because I'm very scared, and I need you to be brave, and to help me be brave too. Can you do that? Can you help me be brave, like you did on the night you first came to live with us?"

Philippe nodded.

Cinderella kissed him on both cheeks. "Brave boy," she whispered, and lifted him up in her arms as she felt him wrap his arms around her neck.

She carried him out of the bedroom and turned-

"As always, Cinderella, your compassion is your greatest weakness."

* * *

 _Author's Note: Despite what you may think, I don't particularly enjoy putting Cinderella through the wringer like this; in fact these last few chapters have been quite hard for me to write (there have been times I've had to very much force myself to get on with it). Nevertheless, I sort of enjoyed bringing back the detail from the first fic that Cinderella really doesn't like dark, confined spaces. I also enjoyed reminding you all that Cinderella does know how to read people when they aren't flat out lying to her. She prefers to trust people, and to see the best in them, but she's not stupid. It's possibly an element you'll see more of once the Grace business is wrapped up and normal service resumes.  
_


	18. Shot

Shot

Cinderella gasped. Vanessa stood before her, a smug triumphant look upon her face, and all around her were her men in their coats as red as blood, her men with their snarling faces who growled but did not speak. Cinderella shrank back as one of them bared his teeth at her.

Vanessa's smile broadened. She gave a tiny nod of her head.

Cinderella shrieked as she grabbed from behind, one of Vanessa's savage men gripping her tightly by the arms as another of them tore Philippe from out of her grasp.

"Stepmother!" Philippe yelled as he was wrenched away.

"Philippe!" Cinderella tried, trying to reach for him but prevented by the painful iron grip of the man restraining her. "Let him go! Please, he's just a boy!"

"A boy of the King's blood," Vanessa said. "Not his fault, I admit, but his consequence nevertheless. I was surprised that you escaped from your tower. I suppose you must have found the secret passages at last. But ultimately it doesn't matter where you hide so long as I know where you're going. If you'd only been able to bring yourself to abandon the boy you might have escaped."

"I could never do that," Cinderella said.

"I know," Vanessa replied. "And because you love, you lose."

Cinderella shook her head. "Because I love I have something to lose; and because I love I know that you haven't won yet."

Vanessa chuckled. "You're thinking of your husband, your friends? Or perhaps you think the people will rise up for you like they did before? Don't worry, I won't make the same mistakes again."

Cinderella's eyes widened. "Grace?" she murmured, because it was impossible and yet...the same mistakes again? What could Vanessa possibly mean...and Cinderella had always thought that her laugh sounded familiar. In fact it wasn't just her laugh but her entire voice. Now that Cinderella thought about it, now that she was looking for it, she sounded just like her former lady-in-waiting.

Vanessa was silent for a moment. "Clever, clever, Cinderella; a little late now, of course, but still...well done. Even if I did give it away at the end there."

"What have you done?" Cinderella asked.

Grace let out a guffaw. "Where would you like me to begin?"

"Whose face is that?" Cinderella demanded. "Where is Philippe's grandmother, where is Eugene and what are you going to do with him, what are you going to do with my friends, what have you done?"

"Whose face is that, an excellent question," Grace said. "It belonged to a nobody, a girl of no account and no importance. A girl like you, before you were plucked out of nothing and so unworthily showered with presents and favours. And so, because she was nothing, I took her face for my own."

Cinderella shivered. "And what...what was left of this poor girl once you were finished?"

Grace's smile was cold as ice and as sharp as a razor. "The body that General Gerard has been trying to identify."

Cinderella swallowed. "You...you killed her."

"As I said, she was of no importance."

"How can you say that?" Cinderella demanded. "Just because she was a poor shepherdess you think that she...you're a monster. I feel like such a fool for not seeing it."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, I'm very good at playing the good girl," Grace said. "Good enough to deceive you, anyway."

"What are you going to do to me?" Cinderella asked.

Grace's smile remained fused in place as though she couldn't have changed her expression if she wanted to. "I'm not going to do anything to you. Princess Cinderella, dowager duchess of Rennes, will live a long and happy life." Grace reached out, and tugged Drizella out from behind one of the rough-faced guards to stand beside her. Drizella looked both nervous - head bowed, hands clasped in front of her - and triumphant, judging by the smirk on her face. It was the same smirk she had always worn when Cinderella was about to get in trouble with her stepmother.

"Drizella Tremaine, on the other hand," Grace said. "Will simply...disappear."

It took Cinderella a moment to realise just what Grace meant. Her eyes widened, she struggled in the unyielding grip of her captor. "No! No, you can't, you can't possibly!"

"Originally I was just going to kill you," Grace said. "But concealing your violent end would have been difficult. This...so much more elegant, don't you think? I give your face, your eyes, your comely form to Drizella, to live out the rest of her life - the rest of your life, I should say - as my best friend. And I never have to worry about what all your knuckling-dragging sycophants on the streets might say."

"No," Cinderella said. "Drizella, please, please don't do this."

"Why shouldn't I?" Drizella demanded. "If you're going to just take everything I want without asking then why shouldn't I take everything you have? Once I become you, then people will want to kiss me, and take my hand and hold me in their arms the way that he holds you. Once I become you my life will finally be perfect."

"But it won't be your life," Cinderella cried. "It will be mine."

"So what if it is your life, I'll still be the one enjoying it!"

 _Just like you did the last time you stole my life,_ Cinderella thought. It was an unkind thought, one might even call it venomous, but Drizella was about to murder her and steal her identity so even Cinderella's supply of the milk of human kindness was starting to dry up in regards to her.

"I was kind to you," she said.

"You just wanted to flaunt your good luck in front of me," Drizella replied. "You wanted to make me jealous of all the things you had that I didn't. Do you know...your husband wouldn't even sleep with me! You're pregnant and you're getting fat but he'd still rather share your bed than mine! It's not fair!"

"What are you going to do to Eugene?" Cinderella asked, turning her attention back to Grace. "Where is he? I can't believe you're going to let him live out his life with Drizella."

Grace chuckled. "Something tells me that it wouldn't take him long to work out that something was amiss," she said dryly. "And my own son's path to the succession runs through him."

"Your son," Cinderella murmured. "Are you...?"

Grace's smile became less cruel for a moment. In fact it almost seemed sincere as she looked down and placed a hand upon her stomach. "It's too early to be sure, but my blood should have come by now and it has not." She looked back up at Cinderella. "Are you going to congratulate me."

"I'm going to beg you for the life of my child," Cinderella said softly. "From one expectant mother to another."

Grace laughed. "That would be very convenient, I'm sure. You'd have...how far along are you now?"

"Seven weeks."

"And you'd have seven months to hope for some kind of rescue. I'm not inclined to give you that chance. In fact I think it's probably best for everyone - best for me, anyway - if we, make the switch as it were, right now. Are you ready, Drizella?"

"Definitely," Drizella declared, with a vicious smile upon her face.

"Then I see no reason to delay," Grace said. "After all, I do need a bridesmaid for my wedding."

"Wait!" Cinderella cried, as the guards started to drag her away. "What are you going to do with Philippe?"

"Don't worry," Grace said. "He'll be joining you in heaven soon enough."

"No!" Cinderella shrieked as she was pulled, almost carried in the direction of the staircase. "Please, Grace, please. I'm begging you, please, have mercy, he's a child! Grace, please!"

Grace said nothing, and her face gave no sign of yielding to the claims of pity.

Cinderella was borne towards the stairs, where Etienne Gerard and Jean Taurillion were waiting with pistols drawn and pointed upwards at Grace.

"Let them go," Etienne demanded. "Both of them."

Grace stared down at the two men aiming their weapons at her. "How long have the two of you been skulking down there?"

"Long enough to hear everything, Lady Grace," Etienne replied.

"Not very gallant of you," Grace observed. "To eavesdrop while your princess is in peril."

"I have enough sense to balance out the young man's gallantry," Etienne said.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to your rescue at once, your highness," Jean said.

"You see what I mean?" said Etienne. "Now, let them go."

"Or what?" Grace asked. With one hand gestured languidly at the men around her, aiming their weapons right back at Jean and Etienne below. "If you shoot me my hounds will tear all of you, including your precious princess, to pieces."

"Perhaps," Etienne said. "But you'll still be dead. As dead as Anatole du Montcalm."

Grace stared down at him, and her expression softened for a moment. "You killed him."

"I did," Etienne replied, his voice cold and without remorse. "Though it was you who turned him into a bear first."

Grace snorted. "Once I decided that I could only gain power by seducing the King, poor Anatole became largely superfluous to my requirements. And yet...a part of me regrets that I got him involved in all of this. For the past few weeks no one has seen me at all. No one has looked upon Grace du Villeroi, but only upon Vanessa. My triumphs, my enmities, my cruelties...they all belong to someone else, to another woman. Even in the midst of the most fabulous ball, when I was the centre of attention...nobody saw me. But he did, if only for a little while. You might not believe it...but I cared about him."

"Then how could you use him like that?" Cinderella asked. "You...you transformed him? You sent the bear?"

"Of course I did, did you think this whole thing was just coincidence?" Grace asked. "Everything has unfolded according...actually no, I can't claim that I planned every step of this with a straight face, but I've been able to keep up with the surprises - like your sudden knowledge of the secret tunnels - along the way."

"You will not adapt to this surprise unless you let them go at once," Etienne growled.

"And what will you do if I let them go?" Grace demanded. "Where will you go? This palace is mine now, the King is mine and I will be his queen; there is nothing you can do to-"

Grace's words were cut off by the sharp crack of Etienne's pistol as he fired. Smoke burst from the end of the gun as Grace was tossed backwards onto the floor of the landing.

"If you are beyond the reach of the justice of men," Etienne said coldly, as he threw his discharged pistol down upon the floor in front of him. "Then you will face the justice of the Lord instead."

For a moment the whole world seemed to freeze. Cinderella's breath caught in her throat. _I'm going to die,_ she thought, for she could not see any way for Jean to save her now. Surely Grace's men, so abruptly deprived of their leader, would kill them all in retribution. She was going to die. She was going to die before she had ever held her child in her arms - though she had tried not to think about it, in Cinderella's imagination it was a baby girl she held, a beautiful daughter whom she rocked to sleep - or comfort them when they were crying or...or anything. She was going to die. They were all going to die. She could see no other way.

Judging by the horror on Jean's face he seemed to feel the same way. Drizella looked stunned, as though she might faint at any moment.

The guards, though...Cinderella expected anger, fury, wrath, but Grace's men in their coats of red looked so confused. More than surprised, they looked as though they could no longer remember what they were doing or why they were here. Cinderella felt the hands holding her arms loosen their grip and so she pulled herself free, snatched Philippe out of the unresisting arms of his own captor - she pressed his face against her shoulder, so that he did not have to see the body that Cinderella herself wished she had not seen - and ran down the stairs to where Jean was waiting.

Jean moved to shield her with his body. "Your highness, we should-" he stopped, his mouth hanging agape. Cinderella followed his astonished gaze, and she felt her own mouth open in amazement.

The men, Grace's men, the redcoats of the Queen's Regiment, were changing before her eyes. They sniffled and whined and snuffled as they were transformed from men in red coats to a pack of mongrel dogs, sniffing around on the landing above them in a disorganised mass, with no more apparent thought of avenging Grace than of punishing Cinderella or Etienne or anyone.

"Dogs," Cinderella murmured. "They were...dogs." It made a degree of sense, at least in the way that it explained their behaviour, the way they never spoke but only growled and snarled. Poor things, they must have been so confused, no wonder they had been angry. Had Grace been controlling them somehow? Was their loyalty just more magic? The current behaviour of the mongrels seemed to suggest so.

"You can't possibly have known that would happen!" Jean snapped. "The princess could have been killed."

"And Grace was absolutely right; we had no good choices available to us."

"A choice that put her highness at risk is no choice at all!"

Etienne's sword clattered to the ground beside his pistol. "I am prepared to answer for my actions, of course. But I do not regret them."

Drizella stared at all these dogs at her feet with eyes so wide they were in danger of falling out of their sockets. Her mouth was moving, but Cinderella could hear no words.

Cinderella would have been more sympathetic to her plight if Drizella hadn't been about to murder her. But there were limits to her patience and Drizella had not so much crossed them as danced gleefully over them and away into the night.

"Jean," Cinderella said, and though her voice was quiet it was also sharp. "Where are Angelique and the others?"

"Waiting at the entrance to the passage, your highness."

"I see," Cinderella said. "Please take Mademoiselle Tremaine into custody and secure her in the dungeon until...until further notice."

Jean hesitated for a moment before he bowed his head. "As you command, your highness." He waded through dogs that were milling around on the landing and beginning to descend the stairs - what were they going to do about them, there must be more all over the palace - as though he were stomping through a bog, raising his legs high and putting his feet down with great care. He thrust both his pistols into his sash as he took Drizella by the arms and began to lead her down the stairs and away.

It was his touch that seemed to reawaken Drizella to her new predicament, because she began to squirm in Jean's grasp as Cinderella had struggled in the grip of her captor, and to just as little effect. "What are you doing? Get your hands off me! Let go! Are you deaf, let me go at once! Cinderella! Cinderella you can't do this to me! Please!"

Cinderella turned away and closed her eyes. Not because she regretted the command that she was given - although she did regret, even now, the fact that she and Drizella would never have the opportunity to possess the sisterly bond that Cinderella's father had hoped they would have - but because she was afraid that if she didn't turn away from Drizella she might do something unseemly. Cinderella trembled with rage. She had never felt so angry in her entire life before. She wanted to scream in Drizella's face, she wanted to rail at her, to throw everything that she had done at her, she wanted to list all the ways that Drizella deserved this. She wanted to and yet she didn't want to. She didn't want to be that sort of person, and so Cinderella said nothing as Jean led her stepsister away.

 _She was going to kill me, so that she could become me,_ Cinderella thought. _She was willing to see Eugene die, and Philippe, and my unborn child and maybe my friends too. She betrayed me. She deserves this._

But it saddened her, all the same, to know that all hope of a reconciliation with the only family she had was gone, had never in fact been a possibility beyond her naive hopes. It saddened her more than she could admit to anyone.

She glanced at Etienne, and then looked away again. She said nothing. Cinderella didn't know what to say in the face of what he had done.

"She had killed two innocent people to get to you," Etienne said softly. "You heard her admit that."

"Yes," Cinderella whispered.

"She was right to say she would never have faced justice for that while the King protected her," Etienne continued. "What I did...justice has been done, I believe."

Cinderella didn't reply, she had no idea what to say.

"Come with me, please," she said softly. "I think we have a lot of work to do."

* * *

 _Author's Note: This isn't how I originally was going to have this go down, but as I thought about it, having written myself to this point, I began to feel more and more that my original plan (in which Grace has Cinderella at her mercy and then…locks her up for a bit while she goes to marry the King) did an incredible disservice to the character by having her act like a cheap Bond villain. And I just couldn't think of any way in which both characters left the scene alive._

 _Nevertheless, though Grace is no more her shadow will endure, and I hope that the aftershocks of what she did will be as interesting as the deeds themselves._


	19. The Immediate Aftermath

The Immediate Aftermath

Grace was gone. Her shadow had been lifted from Cinderella's life and yet she could take no joy in it, feel no relief; indeed she could feel nothing but a great weight upon her shoulders that threatened to break her beneath them. Grace was gone but in the time allowed to her she had done so much, wreaked such havoc, that simply contemplating the work that she had been left to undo all this made Cinderella feel weary with exertion.

 _I was once the regent of all of Armorique, what is this compared with that? And I have Eugene to help me now, as well._

 _I hope._

Cinderella had not been brought up to do this, she had not been raised for this...but she was here now and it was her obligation to do this. One might even say it was her duty, as such a time as this, to take charge and do what she could to repair the damage.

With Etienne following behind her as obediently as a hound - unlike the dogs on the stairs and landing, who continued to mill about aimlessly - Cinderella rejoined her ladies and servants by the entrance to the secret passageway.

"We just saw Jean taking Drizella away," Angelique said. "But he didn't look too happy about it. What happened?"

"Grace is...dead," Cinderella said softly.

Augustina frowned. "Grace? But...what about Vanessa?"

"Vanessa was Grace," Etienne said. "She was...disguised. By magic."

"Magic?" Christine repeated. "There's no such thing as magic."

"If my lady will go to where we have just come from she will see a great many mongrel dogs upon the landing," Etienne said. "I invite my lady to explain where they came from."

"Lady Christine," Cinderella said softly. "I'm not going to tell you what to believe, but I'm afraid there's no time to explain all of this properly. The point is that Grace, or Vanessa, is gone...and now I must ask you all to help me."

Christine curtsied. "We are at your service, your highness."

"Thank you," Cinderella said, still speaking quietly. She knelt, and set Philippe down on the ground. "Philippe, I'm afraid that I can't stay with you at the moment. I have too much to do, so I'm going to leave you with Marinette while I look for your father and grandmother, do you understand?"

"Yes, Stepmother."

"And you will be good for Marinette, won't you?"

"Yes, Stepmother."

"Of course you will," Cinderella said, stroking his hair out of his forehead with one gentle hand. She glanced up at Marinette. "You don't mind taking care of him, do you?"

"Of course not," Marinette said, as she bent down to pick him up. "Come on, young man, let's leave the princess to her work."

"Lady Christine," Cinderella said. "Will you please find the kennel master and ask him to gather up some men and go through the entire palace, from top to bottom, rounding up every stray dog he finds and bringing them to the kennels until we can decide what to do with them?"

Christine frowned, but she curtsied again. "Um, yes, as you wish, your highness."

"Augustina," Cinderella said. "Grace's...body is not far away. Can you please find one or two servants and...and bring her to the chapel? She can rest there until...until we have time to make a proper decision."

Augustina bowed her head. "Very well."

"Thank you," Cinderella said. "Angelique, General Gerard, please come with me. We're going to find men and search the palace for Eugene and Madame Clairval."

"What about the King?" Angelique asked.

Cinderella closed her eyes for a moment. Now that she knew the truth about Grace she did not doubt that the King had not been in his right mind when he had...when he had done those awful things, but all the same...knowing that didn't make the fear she had felt in the face of his anger any less real, it didn't make the pain she had felt when he struck her any less real, it didn't change the way she had felt when Vanessa - Grace - had held her in place so that His Majesty could beat her like a disobedient child.

It didn't change the fact that when she thought of the King she felt not love but fear.

"I hope," she said. "I hope that we will find Eugene before then."

 _And he can decide what is to be done._

Her ladies attended each to their appointed tasks as Cinderella began to attend to hers. It was Jean who sent word that he had found Eugene, locked in a cell not far from where he - Jean - had secured Drizella. Cinderella hastened down to him at once, to find that he had already been released and met her coming up the dungeon steps as she descended them to join him.

"You're alright," he cried in a hoarse voice as he gripped Cinderella firmly by the shoulders. "Thank God you're alright, I was so worried."

Even in the half-light that prevailed in the dungeon staircase, half illuminated by light falling from above and half consumed in the darkness from below, Cinderella could tell that the same could not be said of Eugene. His face was bruised and swollen, and he walked favouring his left leg and almost limping with his right.

"Oh, my," Cinderella murmured. "Does it hurt terribly? What did they do to you?"

Eugene tried to smile. "I didn't let them take me without a fight. But it doesn't matter what they did to me, I was just so worried about what they might do to you...to you and the baby. They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"No," Cinderella said. "Etienne rescued me, before she could. It's all over now; the danger is, at least. Did Jean tell you?"

"Yes," Eugene said solemnly. "Yes, he told me." He looked up from Cinderella, and his gaze fell upon Etienne. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, I've probably caused you nearly as much trouble as she did," Etienne muttered.

"You saved Cinderella's life-"

"And took a life in the process," Etienne said. "I don't regret it, not for one moment, but...it must be answered for, and explained."

Eugene scowled. "You're probably right. But we have a little time yet before we have to cross that torrent, and whatever comes of it...you have my gratitude."

Etienne bowed his head. "An honour to serve, your highness."

Eugene embraced her, but Cinderella had no time to enjoy the feel of his strong arms enfolding her, just as he had no time to savour the feel of Cinderella pressed against his breast. He released her quickly. "What's going on?"

Cinderella explained to him all that she had done.

"And my father?" Eugene asked.

Cinderella looked down at the stone steps leading down to the dungeon. "I...I didn't say anything about him...I decided to wait for you."

Eugene nodded. "You've done very well," he said. "As you always do."

Cinderella didn't smile. She didn't feel proud of her decisions; mostly she felt relieved that Eugene was here to share the burden with her.

Eugene gave one additional instruction, to search the surrounding countryside for any of Grace's cohorts who might be nearby, but other than that he let Cinderella's own instructions stand. Together, they joined the search for Madame Clairval...and for the King.

It was the kennel master who sent word that he had found Madame Clairval, a little the worse for wear but not badly hurt. She was unconcerned with herself, but only with her grandson, to whom she was escorted by one of the guards.

"Do you think," Cinderella murmured, as she gripped Eugene's arm with both hands. "Do you think that I made a terrible mistake, inviting them to come and live with us? It puts them in such danger that...maybe you were right all along, and it was better when no one knew the truth."

"No one knew the truth, and I didn't know my son," Eugene said. "Cutting off all contact with him was never the right thing to do, and I can't claim it was in his best interests."

"But the peril-"

"She's gone now," Eugene said. "Grace is finished with. I don't see any reason why he should be threatened like that again."

Cinderella turned her eyes downwards. "I hope you're right about that."

"I am right," Eugene insisted. "For all of us. Nothing like this will ever happen again."

Not long after, word was brought to them that the King was in the throne room, alone, marvellously distempered and crying out for Vanessa. They made haste to join him there, accompanied by Jean, Etienne, Angelique and a swelling number of guards that followed in their train. It heartened Cinderella, as she walked beside Eugene, how the guards and servants alike obeyed them both in spite of the fact that His Majesty had named them his enemies. No one tried to waylay or arrest them, no one even refused to obey them, and those for whom they had no instructions bowed or curtsied to them as they passed on by. Eugene had revealed that all his captors had been the hounds of the Queen's Regiment who soon would swell the kennels, and none at all of the troops that Cinderella had grown accustomed to. It gladdened her to know that the staff and guards had not betrayed them, that they had recognised even when His Majesty had not that they were loyal friends of the crown.

As her steps brought her closer to the King, or at least to the place where he had been seen last, Cinderella felt more and more in need of the reassurance. She didn't want to see him again. She wasn't sure if she was capable of it or if her heart would quail on the threshold of the room. But she said nothing of this to Eugene, she dared not; the King was his father, and Eugene loved him. He wouldn't want to hear that Cinderella feared him now.

 _All the rest of Grace's spells were ended when she died, perhaps the spell she cast on His Majesty is ended too._

 _It doesn't sound like it, if he is still calling out for her._

 _Perhaps...perhaps it was never a spell at all. Perhaps he always hated me after all._

 _Then why would he hide it?_

 _I don't know...all I know is that when he hit me the love I felt for him took more hurt than my face._

As they approached the throne room, walking down the crimson carpet that led that way, Cinderella and all those who accompanied her could hear the sounds of His Majesty shouting, the bellowing of his voice accompanied by heavy crashes and shattering sounds.

"Vanessa!" he cried. "Vanessa! Why does she not come at once, Vanessa! My dear, my sweetheart, where are you? I...I need you. Why do you not come?"

Eugene's mouth tightened as he led the way, throwing open the doors into the throne room and leading their whole party in. The King had his back to them, glancing this way and that as though Vanessa were somehow in the room but he had missed her. He turned at the opening of the doors, and his look of joy - he must have thought it were Vanessa coming when he called for her - turned to fury as he beheld who it was.

"You!" he yelled, pointing at them with an aggressive finger. "You pair of traitors! You vipers and deceivers! Guards! Guards! Seize them! Seize them at once and put them in irons! Seize them and...and...do something!"

The guards stood motionless, ignoring the commands of their king and waiting upon the word of his son.

The King's eyes were wide, they darted from soldier to soldier. "I gave you an order!" he yelled. "Obey your king!"

"There are no traitors here, father," Eugene said gently, tenderly. "We only want what's best for you?"

The King's face twisted into a sneer at that, but then his expression became melancholy. "Wh-where's Vanessa? I sent for her but...but she will not come, nor will they bring me news of her."

"Vanessa...Vanessa is gone, Father," Eugene said.

His Majesty stared at them in silence for a moment. "Gone? Gone, no, no she cannot be gone, no. What do you mean, gone? She would not leave me, her love, her dear heart. What have you done? What have you done?" He advanced upon them with such anger in his eye that Cinderella shrank back before him, but Jean and a couple of his men placed themselves squarely in his path and in front of Cinderella.

"Please, your majesty," Jean said. "Calm down. I have no wish to use you harshly, but I cannot allow the princes to come to harm, even from your hand."

The King shook his head violently. "What have you done?" he repeated. "Oh, my love, my sweet, my pretty one! Oh, my dove! What have you done?" Tears began to well in his eyes. "What have you done?"

Eugene looked away. "Take His Majesty to his room. And see that he stays there, and doesn't hurt himself."

"Yes, your highness."

Cinderella did not, could not, look as they took him away, feebly protesting all the while. _He was such a kind man, and so sweet to me when I was all alone and friendless. Or so he seemed? Was he always hiding something else beneath or did you do this to him, Grace? Why did you have to be so cruel?_

Eugene took her hands. "Do you think...do you think he will recover?"

Cinderella looked up at him. "I'm sure he will," she said, with far more certainty than she felt because Eugene needed reassurance.

Eugene snorted. "You're a terrible liar, darling; but thank you."

Cinderella sighed. She felt so tired, exhausted by all that had happened today and in the hectic days that had preceded it. Sadly, their work was not yet done.

In some ways it was only beginning.

They had laid Grace out before the altar in the palace chapel, with candles burning all around her and the ornate golden cross casting a shadow over her. She looked like Grace now, and not at all like Vanessa: that golden hair, those eyes as green as envy, the softness of her features; she had been beautiful, and yet it had not brought her happiness. Or had she even wanted to be happy? Had she not, in the end, desired other things more: power, revenge, authority. Whatever the case, they had led her here: with a red ruin engulfing her neck, her lifeless form lying in the chapel with a white shroud laid over her.

"Cover her face, for goodness' sake," Eugene snapped. "And then leave us."

One of the servants threw the shroud over her face, concealing it from sight. Then they exited, leaving only Cinderella, Eugene and Etienne in the chapel with Grace.

"What are we going to do?" Eugene asked. "About her, about...all of this."

Cinderella sat down on one of the pews; she was so tired she felt as though she couldn't have stayed on her feet for another moment. She leaned forward, her elbows and forearms resting upon her legs with the layers of her gown separating them. "Can't we tell the truth?"

Eugene turned to look at her. "Magic? Grace wearing Vanessa's face, dogs transformed into men and men into bears? It will seem absurd, and we will seem as mad as...as my father seems at the moment."

"We have the bodies of Grace and Anatole," said Etienne.

"And no proof they were ever anything more than Grace and Anatole," Eugene said. "Besides, I worry that the truth would make things even worse. It's one thing for the King to fall prey to foolishness, another for his mind to be taken over. One is laughable, the other deadly serious."

"Then what do you suggest?" Cinderella asked.

"Deception," Eugene said. "Vanessa has fled the palace, taking a large quantity of money with her and leaving the King heartbroken."

"And Grace?" Etienne demanded. "The body?"

"Grace was never here," Eugene said. "We will...quietly inter her, somewhere secret. Anatole du Montcalm, too."

"You want to lie to everyone," Cinderella murmured.

Eugene nodded. "For my father's sake, and the good of everyone."

"I see," Cinderella said softly. "I'm not sure that I approve, but...you're probably right."

"I hope so," Eugene said.

"Are you sure no one will talk?" Etienne asked.

"If they do, what will they say? How will it not sound ridiculous?" Eugene said. He held out his hand to Cinderella. "Can you walk? I don't think we should stay here any longer."

Cinderella nodded silently, and allowed him to help her to her feet and lead her out of the chapel and back into the palace.

"General," Cinderella said. "Could you give us a moment, please? I'd like a word with my husband in private."

Etienne bowed to her. "Of course, your highness. I bid you good day, and pass on the regards of my wife."

Cinderella smiled, if only a little. "Thank you, general, and thank you for saving me."

"Ma'am," Etienne said, as he quickened his pace and left Eugene and Cinderella, who walked only at Cinderella's slower pace, behind.

"What is it?" Eugene asked her. "Is something wrong."

"Not wrong, but," Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "You talked about going to the summer palace after the wedding."

"There will be no wedding now," Eugene said.

"I know," Cinderella replied. "But...does that mean that we can't go?"

"You still want to? There's nothing to be afraid of any more."

Cinderella nodded. "But..."

"What is it?"

Cinderella closed her eyes for a moment. "I feel so tired, Eugene. So much has happened, and so quickly that...there are times I feel as though I'm drowning. I know that I'm a princess and I have responsibilities, but...can I not want to be just Cinderella again, for a little while. Not long, but...I feel so tired." It had been less than a year since she and Eugene were married and in that time Cinderella had been shot at, humiliated more times than she cared to recall, harassed into something approaching terror, bullied, elevated unexpectedly to the regency, poisoned and cursed; she had fallen gravely ill, become regent over the entire country and made laws and treaties on the nation's behalf. She felt she had the right to say that she would like to stop and rest for a while, even if it was only for a little while.

Eugene's expression softened, and his voice when he spoke was as tender as his touch upon his hand. "I'm sorry, Cinderella, but I can't, With Father the way he is, and things in the state they are...I can't abandon everything right now, as much as I might want to."

"Oh," Cinderella said softly. "I see. Of course." _You must think I'm very selfish._

"But you can, and I think you should."

"Really? But without you-"

"Take your ladies, I'm sure they'll keep you entertained," Eugene said. "Plus, I'm not sure how good all of this strain is for you in your condition. No one will think it strange to hear you've retired to the countryside for your health, especially as you are. And you have been through an awful lot, so much more than you should have ever had to endure." He bent down and kissed her. "You deserve a break. I'll miss your advice, but I'm sure I'll be able to muddle through without you."

"Are you sure? I feel as though I'm abandoning you."

"Not if I send you away," Eugene said. "I want you to be safe and happy and healthy, and if a trip to the countryside is what you need then I'm all for it." He kissed her again. "I hope you have a perfectly boring time."

"So do I," Cinderella said, because after everything that had happened it felt as though boring was exactly what she needed at the moment.

But before then, before she could take refuge in the beauty and boredom of the royal rural retreat, there was one more unpleasant task that she had to perform; perhaps the most unpleasant of all.

She had to decide what was to be done about Drizella.

* * *

Eugene stayed by Cinderella's side as she walked through the dark dungeons beneath the palace. Light fell in striped patterns through the barred windows, illuminating her dress and then casting it into shadow again. Her footfalls, light as they were, echoed on the stone floor.

The dungeons were dirtier than the immaculate palace up above, with straw on the floor and what sounded a lot like rats. Cinderella didn't flinch. She forced herself to remain impassive as she walked down the rows of empty cells, to conceal the fact that she didn't want to be here at all.

Jean had locked Drizella in one of the cells furthest away and when Cinderella came to her barred door she saw her stepsister hunched up on the bed, hugging her knees as if she feared to let them touch the floor.

It took her a moment for her to notice Cinderella standing on the other side of the door, but when she did notice she gave Cinderella a baleful glare. "What do you want? Are you here to gloat again?"

Cinderella felt Eugene stiffen by her side, but he didn't speak. She had asked him not to. She needed – she thought she needed – to do this by herself.

"No," she said softly. "I'm not here to gloat." She ignored the part about again. "I'm here…I'm here to talk to you about what happens next."

Drizella said nothing, but her eyes narrowed.

"We've decided to tell the country that Vanessa ran away from the palace, stealing from His Majesty in the process," Cinderella said. "Nothing about Grace, or about her treason. Nothing about you, either."

"Nothing about your friend killing someone either."

"No," Cinderella admitted. Etienne might have saved her life but murder was murder, and he would have to answer for it…if it came out. It felt a little wrong to her to cover the whole thing up, but she had to admit that Eugene had good reasons for taking the course that he had decided to adopt. "General Gerard will suffer no consequences for what he has done…and neither will you."

Drizella perked up visibly. "You mean you're letting me out."

"Yes."

"Do I still have to wait on you hand and foot?"

Cinderella could tell that Eugene was struggling to restrain himself beside her. "No," she said coldly. "I'm going to send you home, and the payments I was making to my…to your mother are going to end."

"You're taking our money away?" Drizella demanded in a tone of injured righteousness.

"No, I'm not paying you my husband's money any more," Cinderella corrected her.

"But why?"

"You tried to sleep with my husband," Cinderella reminded her. "And then you tried to kill me."

"No I didn't," Drizella said.

"I beg your pardon."

"You said so yourself: Vanessa ran away."

Cinderella's eyebrows rose.

"I'm just saying," Drizella said.

"You still tried to seduce my husband."

"Yes, but that doesn't count. After all, it wasn't as though you were sleeping with him."

"I'm afraid it still counts to me, Drizella."

Drizella pouted. "Don't you think you're being selfish about this?"

"Selfish?" Cinderella repeated, in a dumbstruck tone. "Selfish? You think I'm being selfish?"

"Don't you?"

Cinderella stared at her for a moment. She took a deep breath, and then released it in an equally deep sigh. She held out one hand, and felt Eugene take it gently.

"Perhaps I am," she said. "Perhaps I am being a little selfish. But perhaps…perhaps I have the right to be, just this once. Perhaps I have the right to say that I won't let you ruin my life any more. Any of you.

"I thought that I ought to be kind to you, because it was what you deserved. I thought that because you'd given me a roof over my head all those years that at least you'd treated me better than you could have. I thought that at least you'd spared me from the fate of Jean and Angelique. But when I think about it, I remember that Jean and Angelique always had each other no matter how bad things got: through all their hardships they had someone beside them who loved them. I…I never had that, and so I'm starting to wonder which of us was really the more unfortunate.

"I thought that I ought to be kind to you because you were the only family that I had, but I was wrong about that as well. We were never a family, not even when my father was alive. You never loved me and I…I'm not sure I ever loved you. I have a family now, here, in this place. I don't need you, and I don't want anything to do with you.

"Goodbye, Drizella. Please pass on my farewells to your mother and sister when you get home."

Cinderella turned and walked away. Eugene put his arm around her waist as he walked beside her.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Cinderella hesitated for a moment. "Yes," she said after a moment. "Yes, I think I am."

With that done, boredom awaited.

* * *

 _Author's Note: So, at one point there was going to be a timeskip in this story after the defeat of Grace where Cinderella and Eugene would go the Summer Palace for a while to recuperate from their experiences. That doesn't make sense any more but I still think that if anyone deserves a break after all they've been through (and writing that summary reminded me of how melodramatic this story is) it's Cinderella. And I think it even makes sense that she would want one at this point, because you can see in some of the recent chapters that even her emotional resilience is starting to show a little strain from her experiences._

 _It also gets her away from the King for a little bit, because as much as a diminishing part of me is drawn to Cordelia-like forgiveness, at the end of the day Cinderella – as nice as she is – isn't a saint and she's going to have a hard time trusting him again, especially since he isn't actually out of the woods._

 _Drizella…yeah, she's kind of getting away with it, but Cinderella isn't a vengeful person; for me, the fact that she is finally able to say 'you treated me horribly and I'm done with all of you' is as great a victory as any kind of punishment could be._


	20. Eugene Alone

_Serenity Rode: On the Fairy Godmother, my view of how it works has always been that the Fairy Godmother only appears when there are no other options. She doesn't appear to help Cinderella at all during the years she was being abused by her stepfamily because Cinderella was never without hope then, and she only appears after the stepsisters have destroyed Cinderella's original dress and gone to the ball because that is the point at which it really is hopeless: friendship has failed, Cinderella is out of options, her spirit has finally been shattered and if she doesn't get out now she never will. That's why - or so I would justify it anyway - the Fairy Godmother doesn't show up to bail Cinderella out from Serena or Grace or these other dangers, because Cinderella is never completely out of options. She has friends who are willing to go to the wall for her, she has support amongst the people...she has options even if she doesn't always realise it._

 _From an authorial perspective, of course, there's also the fact that if the Fairy Godmother just appeared whenever things got a bit tense I feel it would kind of spoil the story a bit, not to mention make it very hard for any non-magical antagonist to be much of a threat. Unless they all got fairy godmothers of their own in which case the whole thing spirals out of control and the mortal characters become irrelevant bystanders in a fairy fantasy._

Eugene Alone

Eugene gripped the arms of his chair tightly as he regarded the man sitting in front of him. Monsieur Valis, of the _Breton Gazette_ had the look of a slightly unwell and insalubrious character about him, with his greasy-looking hair, small eyes and a suit that he probably ought to have replaced if he could have afforded to do so. His newspaper - the newspaper that employed him, better to say - catered more to the popular end of the market, and was not generally too well-disposed towards the royal family or even the idea of monarchy. In point of fact Eugene was generally inclined to dismiss the _Gazette_ as a populist rag. But on the other hand the man in front of him was also the closest thing Cinderella had to a friend in the press, and Eugene had to admit that he had no friends of his own to call upon in the fourth estate. There were newspapers that were more supportive of the monarchy in general, but they were also the ones that had been loudest in condemning his father, and frankly Eugene didn't want to give them the opportunity to throw him a lot of questions about the King's recent behaviour. He had some hope, based not only on the man's regard for Cinderella but also because the lower classes were generally less inclined to judgement - that Valis would give him an easier ride.

On the other hand, the man's first question had been to ask him why Cinderella had gone into hiding, which was not the most auspicious start.

"As was announced in the most recent circular," Eugene said, trying to remain calm. "Princess Cinderella has retired to the countryside for the sake of her health."

"Is her highness ill?"

"Not as such," Eugene said. "But the strain of recent events has taken its toll upon her constitution, and in her condition..."

"Of course, your highness, I am sure that all my readers will send the princess their best wishes for a swift recovery. Just as they will be delighted to discover that their beloved princess, who has captured so many of our hearts, has not been hidden away until the bruises stop showing."

Eugene's grip upon his chair was now so tight that his knuckles were white. "And what the devil do you mean by that?"

Monsieur Valis wiped his nose with a grey handkerchief. "There are many rumours, highness, which I should be sorry to believe. Rumours that the princess has suffered violence from those who ought to treat her most tenderly-"

"If you mean to suggest that I beat my wife then have the courage to come out and say so," Eugene snapped.

"Please, sir, I meant to imply no such thing; the mutual devotion of yourself and the princess is most evident in your public appearances. I am suggesting that you allow your father to beat your wife."

Eugene surged to his feet. "How dare you? I will not sit here and be-"

"You may not be aware, sir, but newspapers less discerning than my own have already reported on these allegations," Valis declared stonily. "I expect that if they have not already linked the princess' flight with the question of abuse they will do so. It took her highness a little time to learn that a rumour left unaddressed is like a wound untreated: it does not heal, rather it festers. If your highness has any comment to make upon this the time is surely now."

"You expect me to believe that you're doing me a favour with this line of questioning?"

Valis shrugged. "If your highness does not speak then your silence will speak for you."

Eugene sat down heavily, and with a scowl on his face. "I categorically deny these ridiculous allegations. His Majesty is not in the habit of battering his daughter-in-law; my wife and my father enjoy a most affectionate relationship." _Or they did, anyway._ He told himself it was not quite a lie; he had said that Father did not make a habit of hitting Cinderella, which was true as he had only done it once. In truth he should have expected something like this: Father had attacked Cinderella in a room with plenty of witnesses - the staff and guards - and it would only take one of them to have the idea of selling their story to some yellow gutter rag. _What else will turn up in the worst newspapers over the next few days?_ He might have to start reading them to find out.

"That is very good to hear, your highness," Valis said, scribbling something down in the little book that was open on his knee. "All of us who admire the princess were deeply concerned that she might be suffering mistreatment."

"I'm sure Cinderella would be delighted to find out that she has so many friends and admirers eager for her wellbeing," Eugene growled.

Valis nodded. "Now, your highness, on to the matter of our new queen...or rather to the fact that we will not be having a new queen after all. Would you not agree that it has been a strange sequence of events that has led us to this point?"

"I suppose you could say that," Eugene said.

"Princess Cinderella is attacked by a bear - though such a beast has not been seen wild in Armorique for many years, not since my grandfather's time at least - and saved by a mysterious shepherdess who is as great a mystery as the princess was when first she stepped onto the stage. She becomes His Majesty's lover, and then she becomes engaged to be his wife. Now we learn that she has fled and cannot be found. You do not find this a strange tale?"

"I can see that you might think it so," Eugene said. "It seems less strange to me, monsieur, having lived through it as it happened." Eugene wasn't quite sure how he managed to say that with a straight face; it had all felt incredibly strange to him even while he was living through it. Strange, bizarre and frequently discomfiting. _At least it's over now. All I need to do is brazen this out so that everyone believes it._ "As far as the bear goes, we're considering the possibility that it had escaped from a circus or a bear-baiting. That would explain its sudden appearance."

Valis scribbled something down. "Perhaps. In any case, sir, that is far from the greatest of mysteries surrounding these events. That would fall to the sudden appearance and equally sudden disappearance of the woman Vanessa, and His Majesty's infatuation with her."

"The King," Eugene said. "Is a man of great passion. Sometimes that passion leads him astray, as unfortunately it has here."

"And the woman?"

"She was a gold-digger," Eugene declared. "She took her gold and left. I doubt we will see or hear of her again."

"Yet she did not want the even greater wealth and opulence that would come from being Queen of Armorique?"

"I can't see into her mind but I doubt she wanted the responsibility that would have come from being Queen of Armorique," Eugene replied.

"Hmm," Valis murmured. "And His Majesty...he is indisposed?"

"I'm afraid so, he has taken the betrayal very hard," Eugene said. "It has made him sick at heart. I am doing what I can to ease his burdens while he recovers."

Valis' eyes narrowed a little. "I am reminded that His Majesty kept working when Queen Isabelle, your mother, passed away. Despite his mourning His Majesty continued to attend to the business of government."

"I can't pretend to be happy about this state of affairs," Eugene growled. "But it is what it is."

"Indeed," Valis said. "There are some who might call this very convenient, sir."

Eugene took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. "Convenient?"

"It has been suggested that a new queen would have been difficult for you in a great many ways," Valis said. "And, indeed, for the princess who would have been forced to cede primacy as the woman of this palace. The banishment of that spectre is...convenient."

Eugene fought back the desire to yell at the man, or simply have him thrown out. "Yes," he said. "I will admit that I wasn't looking forward to the marriage, and I will even admit that neither was Princess Cinderella. But if you mean to suggest or imply something, monsieur, I cannot guess at it."

"With the announcement of the royal marriage there were those who suggested that His Majesty was unfit to continue exercising the powers of the king; now here you are, exercising them on his behalf."

"I have no official standing as the King's proxy, nor is there any need for such," Eugene said. "His Majesty will resume his duties as soon as he feels able. I have no ambitions to succeed my father before his time."

"But you will be standing in for him?"

"I will be doing my duty to Armorique."

Valis nodded. "One last question, your highness. Princess Cinderella has proven and established herself as a friend of the people in the councils of the high. There will be those who wonder, perhaps with some concern, what her departure from the stage will mean for the direction of public policy."

Eugene sighed. "Monsieur, you are too dramatic by half. Princess Cinderella has no more departed the stage than His Majesty has; she is taking her ease for a while to recover her strength and when she feels recovered she will return. I hope that those who claim to be her friends would not begrudge her a rest from trial and tribulation.

"I am a great admirer of my wife's intelligence and conscientousness," Eugene continued. "I value her advice greatly and I will miss it while she is not here. It is true that Cinderella's views are not always the same as my own, but I promise that her values of compassion and understanding will continue to animate the policy of this country and our attitudes towards His Majesty's loyal subjects."

Valis took his leave after that, for which Eugene was very grateful. He loosened his collar as he strode out of the sitting room and set off towards his father's chamber.

Etienne was waiting for him outside, and fell in behind him as he walked. "How did it go?"

Eugene shrugged. "Not wonderfully, I think. He knew that father had hit Cinderella."

"It's the kind of sensational thing that the yellow press pays for," Etienne said. "You denied it."

"Of course, for whatever good it may do," Eugene replied. "Whether he believed everything I told him or not...I really couldn't say." He scowled. "Perhaps if I'd made some effort to court the press myself I could have had a tame correspondent round to ask me easy questions and blindly accept all of my explanations."

"I don't think her highness set out to court the press," Etienne said.

"Then why does the _Gazette_ like her so much?"

"I think it's more that their readers like her and the paper wants to keep on their good side."

Eugene frowned. "No, that can't be right. People take their cue from their newspapers, not the other way around."

"Either way, if you want to be popular perhaps you could try doing something popular?"

Eugene stopped. He half turned towards Etienne, thrusting his hands into his pockets as he did so. "You know, before all of this madness got under way my father told me that he was very unpopular when he came to the throne; apparently he had to marry my mother in order to leech off the esteem in which she was held."

Etienne snorted. "Are you worried that you're following the same path? Or does the fact that it all worked out in the end encourage you?"

"Both," Eugene murmured. He was silent for a moment. "It would never occur to me to thank the servants for the work they do. I look at the world and see something that works perfectly well, not something in need of improvement."

"There's no shame in that," Etienne said. "One of the two great parties in the state is built around the idea that things are working perfectly well without the need for improvement."

"I know," Eugene said. "But I'd rather not rely on Cinderella to make me likeable."

"You're not unpopular," Etienne said. "And amongst the army you are very well regarded. To be honest..."

"What?"

"The people like the princess because they can tell that she's sincere," Etienne said. "If you tried to behave that way you'd probably seem very fake."

Eugene let out a laugh. "It's our collective unpopularity with the nobility that concerns me at the moment. A lot of bridges have been burned recently, a lot of work. Father's reputation is in tatters, the monarchy has been left isolated...Grace might not have killed us all but you could argue she took her revenge all the same."

"There's always..." Etienne trailed off.

"There's always what?"

"You aren't going to want to hear it."

"That doesn't usually stop you."

"You're really not going to want to hear it."

Eugene's eyes narrowed. "I'll be the judge of that, go on."

Etienne took a cigar out of his pocket and began to play with it between his fingers. "Abdication," he said. "A fresh start, with a new King and a popular young Queen."

"No," Eugene declared emphatically.

"Do you think His Majesty can ever recover his reputation after this?"

"I think that we can't know until we try," Eugene said. "I think that he is the anointed king chosen by God to sit upon the throne; I think that less than a year as a princess has worn Cinderella to the bone, can you imagine what becoming queen at this stage would do to her? I think that the King is my father, and that I would be the worst son in Armorique to snatch the crown from off his head now. Besides, he'd never agree to it."

"Very well," Etienne murmured. "I shan't mention it again. Though I can't promise that no on else will. What next?"

"I'm going to see how he's doing," Eugene said. "And after that, Lord Roux and Princess Frederica in that order or it'll look as though I care more about Normans than our government."

"We don't have a government."

"Hopefully we will, if Lord Roux agrees to play along."

Eugene, with Etienne in tow, went to the King's Tower, where he climbed the steps up to his father's chambers. It was unfortunate, and not at all a good sign, that he could hear his father as he walked up the stairs, and that he sounded little better now than he had yesterday.

"The dear father would with his son have speech!" Father bellowed from his room so loudly that Eugene could hear him from at least a floor below. "Commands! Tends service! Is he informed of this? Where is he? Does he sleep still in the wanton's arms? Go tell the prince and his wife I'll speak with them at once!"

There was a crashing sound, like something being thrown across the room.

Eugene quickened his pace. He had assigned a couple of strong soldiers to watch his father, and make sure that he didn't hurt himself, but it seemed that they might be having a little trouble with him.

 _If he doesn't get better soon I might…I might have to consult a doctor about this._ He had been holding off on that for the sake of his father's reputation, but if Grace really had driven him mad, then…would there be anything else for it? What else could he be expected to do?

He arrived at his father's door, and flung it open without knocking. Eugene ducked as an inkwell was hurled across the room to shatter on the wall a few inches away from his head. A table lay upturned upon the floor, the objects that had adorned it lying scattered or broken all around.

His father was in his nightgown still, ruddy-faced and panting. The men Eugene had set to watch him stood nearby, waiting, seeming uncertain as to how long they should let him rant and rave before they acted for his own protection.

 _They fear to lay hands upon him. He is a king, after all._

"Father," Eugene said gently. "Good morning. How do you feel today?"

"Good morning?" Father cried. "Good morning, he says! How do I feel? Be damned to your false concern, sir, your cringing sympathies! I sent for you these hours past! Could you not pry yourself out of-"

"Please don't insult my wife, Father, she doesn't deserve it," Eugene said. "Try and remember that you're talking about the mother of your grandchild."

"My grandchild? Ha! I should divorce me from your mother's tomb for an adulteress, you are no son of mine! Where's Vanessa?"

"Gone, Father," Eugene said. "And I'd ask you not to speak of Mother that way either. She loved you very much." _Unlike the woman you're mooning over now, whatever face she happened to wear._ He did not have a huge number of memories of his mother, she had left him so young; but he remembered the soothing tone of her voice, the richness of her laugh, the feel of her hands as she picked him up…she deserved better than to be maligned in comparison to a faithless, murderous witch.

"Gone?" Father repeated. "Gone? Gone where, gone when, what means this gone? Love, gone? Hope, gone? Where has she gone? What have you done-"

"Nothing!" Eugene snapped. "She left. She has gone! She never loved you, not for a single minute, can't you see that! I love you, I and Cinderella and Mother too before she was taken from us, all of us who you spit on for the sake of that…" He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Father, for shouting, but please, please can't you understand? Can't you…can't you be yourself once more? I don't understand what she did to make you this way?"

"She loved me," Father moaned. "She loved me, as I loved her. And you…what have you done, you faithless boy? You've taken my love away from me, and all my joy and hope of faithful children. May all the vengeances of heaven fall upon your head! May fen-sucked fogs infect Cinderella's beauty to fall and blister! May the life within her turn to ash and barrenness-"

"Father!" Eugene yelled before he could complete the curse. He was not a superstitious man – or he didn't think he was – but he had been exposed to too many strange and inexplicable things to laugh off the things his father said in his madness. That their child should die within the womb, and Cinderella be struck barren…he found he could imagine Cinderella weeping in his mind's eye, tears deluging her face as she received the news that her child was dead and no seed would ever quicken in her again. _Forbid it, God. God, if you have any love or mercy, forbid it absolutely._

"Where is my state?" Father demanded. "Am I not a king? Where are my ministers and officers? Where is my obedience?"

"You are not fit to govern or command," Eugene replied. "Not until you are free of this…this thing that grips you now?"

"Oh, see me here, Almighty God, a poor old man," Father yelled, raising his arms as if to heaven. "As full of grief as of years gone by! Touch me with noble anger and let not woman's tears stain my man's cheeks! Faithless son, if son you be to me, I'll take such revenge on you that the world will…I will do such things…what yet I know not but it shall be terrible! I'll not weep." His breast heaved with sorrow, and tears began to fall upon his ruddy cheeks. "I'll not weep. Oh, Vanessa. Vanessa!"

Eugene turned away, frowning. "Take care of him," he said. "And let me know if his condition improves at all."

"Yes, your highness."

Eugene left, and closed the door behind him.

"No good?" Etienne murmured.

"No," Eugene said.

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Eugene said. "There's a part of me…I deserve the insults that he throws at me for abandoning him like this to…to rule in his place."

"You're doing your duty."

"A prince's duty, perhaps, but not the duty of a son."

"Must I be a prince first?"

"It does come before your name," Etienne said.

Eugene groaned. "Thank you, again, for being here," he said. "With Cinderella gone…I need someone I can talk to."

"Any time," Etienne said. "So…when is Lord Roux coming?"

"Hopefully he'll come as soon as I ask," Eugene said. "But one never really knows with that man, does one?"

* * *

Fortunately, Lord Roux only kept Eugene waiting some two hours before he arrived in response to the royal summons. Eugene received him in his father's study, in the vast marble room where the walls were lined with pictures of himself of an ever increasing size, until an entire enormous walls of an enormous room was taken up with an equestrian painting of him galloping off somewhere.

 _God grant that I may have a son to cover the wall with paintings of one day._ He had a son, of course, but he had as yet no heir; no lawful, princely son to follow him.

 _Let our child live. Let them both live._ There was a part of him that hoped for more children, for many children to be born of their love…but not at the cost of Cinderella herself. If this birth proved too hard for her…he would not force her to go through it again, not for anything. He would not risk her that way, for he could not lose her, not after all that he had already lost.

 _Not to mention I should probably see how many children she would like._

Eugene pushed the thoughts aside for now. It wasn't as though Cinderella was here to discuss it with, and it wasn't the sort of thing that he could talk about with Etienne Gerard.

He needed to concentrate on the here and now, not on his fears or his vague hopes.

Planchet, his valet, stepped into the room and coughed into one hand. "Lord Roux, sir."

Eugene rubbed his eyes. "Show him in. Oh, and Planchet?"

"Sir?"

"Thank you."

Planchet's face did not register any surprise. Eugene couldn't recall if he'd ever seen any emotions on it at all. "Sir," he said, as he left the room.

Eugene got to his feet as Lord Roux entered the study. "My lord, please, sit down."

Lord Roux took off his top hat and bowed. "Your highness, thank you for the invitation. I hope you don't mind me saying that I had rather it came from His Majesty the King."

Eugene sat down as Lord Roux did likewise. Eugene sighed. "Believe me, my lord, I wish that more than you do. How is the Chamber?"

"Fractious," Lord Roux said. "It is not good for the country to be without a government."

"For the second time recently," Eugene pointed out.

Lord Roux had the decency to look embarrassed about the fact. He cleared his throat. "Yes, an…undesirable state of affairs. I don't suppose that you know, sir, when it is likely to be resolved?"

"I'm hoping that it can be resolved today," Eugene said. "Right now."

Lord Roux's eyebrows rose. "If His Majesty wishes to ask me to form a government then…where is he?"

Eugene scowled. "In his chambers, indisposed. I was hoping…I was hoping that we could agree to…pretend that His Majesty had given you the royal commission."

Lord Roux blinked. "You wish to lie to the nation?"

"You are the only man who can form a government," Eugene said. "Sieur Robert does not command the confidence of the chamber, in the liberal coalition there is no other who stands so tall as you do. You are the only choice, and therefore I see little reason not to acknowledge that fact."

"No reason beyond the constitutional and, one might argue, moral violations inherent in the notion," Lord Roux murmured. "Is there no way that His Majesty might be persuaded to rouse himself from his torpor long enough to shake my hand and say a few words."

"I am afraid not."

Lord Roux leaned back in his chair. "Sir…Prince Eugene, we are both men; and I might go even further and say that we are both men of the world. We are not dreamers like your wife, we understand practicalities and realities."

"Perhaps," Eugene murmured; perhaps he was being a little paranoid but the mention of Cinderella put him a little on edge. Too often such mentions turned into insults directed at her. "Your point, my lord?"

"In my youth I suffered somewhat from the pains of heartache," Lord Roux declared, though it was hard to imagine such a thing now. "My first wife passed away after but three years together. Knowing what we now understand of your life prior to your marriage I gather you must have felt the same."

Eugene made a wordless noise with the back of his throat. He wanted to talk about Katherine with Lord Roux even less than he wanted to talk about Cinderella.

"And yet I never so completely lost myself to despair on its account that I was rendered incapable of doing anything else," Lord Roux said, with a touch of sharpness. "I must say, and I think I speak for many when I say, that to think that the King has been so completely incapacitated by a broken heart…it stretches credulity. And now…to hear you suggest-"

"I think that you are on the verge of a suggestion of your own, my lord, one that I would ask you to reconsider."

Lord Roux coughed. "I apologise for any offence, sir, but…if I could but see His Majesty…"

Eugene was silent for a moment. He didn't want to show Lord Roux his father. He didn't want to show anyone his father, he wanted to keep his condition as closely guarded a secret as he could. But Lord Roux, much as Eugene might not care much for him, made a good point, one that Eugene should have spotted earlier. People didn't react this way over a broken heart, or at least not in situations like this. If his father had taken to his bed and seen no one after Eugene's mother had passed away then that would have been one thing, but he had not done so, and now to do it after being abandoned by a strumpet…it would naturally give rise to rumour. It was just as Monsieur Valis had suggested.

He couldn't show the whole of Armorique the truth, but perhaps he could show Lord Roux.

Then the leader of the largest political party in the country would understand what he – what they – were dealing with.

Eugene got to his feet. "Would you like to come with me, my lord? I will take you to the King."

Lord Roux hesitated for a moment, before he too rose from his chair. "Very well, your highness."

Eugene led him up the many steps to the King's chambers. It was quieter now, and Eugene feared the worst until he strode into the room itself to find his father sat on the floor, looking up at a pair of empty chairs, with his attendants ranged around him.

"Now, see, we will arraign them straight. First here's Eugene, I take my oath before the court that he attacked his father, and restrained me painfully. Now, beside him set Cinderella, and on my oath I swear that she corrupted my son with her wanton wiles and turned his heart against me. See how they can not deny it!"

Lord Roux watched all of this with an expression of mingled horror and dismay upon his face. He swept his hat off his head and bowed. "How does your majesty?"

Father turned, scrambling upright. "What? The prisoner escapes! Guards! Guards hold him fast! I…why do you all…" he walked a few paces unsteadily forwards towards Lord Roux. "A visitor! Are you a witness at the trial?"

"The trial, sir?"

"Indeed, sir, we are trying treasons here! The vile fox Eugene and the she-wolf Cinderella are arrayed for their treachery. They took her away, you know, my Vanessa, my lovely girl. She's gone. They…they've sent her from me."

"I…I am sure not, sir."

"I am sure, sir," Father said. "If…if you are not here for the trial then…has your son stripped you of all your rights and powers and condemned you to share this prison with me?"

"I have no son, your majesty."

"Then you are a wise fellow. See it remains so, for he who has a son invites the theft of his house and all his goods. Have you a daughter?"

"Yes, sir, I have three daughters. The eldest has just turned eleven."

"Why, teach them well, sir! Teach them to be obedient to their fathers in law, or else to fall in love with old men and defend them against the cruelty of their sons."

Lord Roux looked as though he would like nothing better than to get out of the room. "Um, sir…the country is without a government."

"And the father is without a son to care for him! Should not the country be chastened, complaining after having looked upon my sorrows?"

"I…indeed, your majesty, I apologise. Good day to you, sir." Lord Roux turned, and practically fled out of the room.

"Heartache? That is not heartache," Lord Roux said, once they were outside again. "He is mad."

"I am loathe to call him mad," Eugene said. "I hope he will recover. Although I hope you understand now, my lord, why I would ask that you…dissemble, somewhat. I do not wish my father's condition to become widely known."

"He is not feet to carry out the duties of the King. A regency-"

"Cannot be promulgated without a government to steer it through the chamber in any event, but that is not what I want."

"Even if I did agree with you, what then? Will you chair meetings of the council, write laws, sign them?"

"I hope my father will recover soon, within weeks if not days. Until then…can you not keep the business of government tiding over until that time?"

"And if His Majesty does not recover?"

"Then…" Eugene sighed. "Then another regency will be necessary; I suppose it will be unavoidable. But until then…"

"Until then," Lord Roux murmured. He looked hesitated for a moment, undecided. But then he placed his hat upon his head and offered his hand. "Until then, your highness, I will endeavour to form a government."

* * *

Princess Frederica sipped her tea. "So, Prince Eugene, how are you coping in your wife's absence?"

Eugene smiled. "I…I doubt that Cinderella would approve of the way that I've chosen to approach the task."

Frederica chuckled. "Your highness, surely you're not admitting to having done anything immoral?"

"Immoral? No," Eugene said. "Though I will say…not always righteous."

Frederica shrugged. "I have often thought that righteousness is only necessary in the aim, not the means."

"I'm not sure Cinderella would agree with you."

"She might not want to agree with me, but what was handing over Hispaniola to Normandie but righteousness in the aim through unrighteous means?"

Eugene was silent for a moment. He was not seeing Frederica in the royal study but rather in one of the many sitting rooms, with a pot of tea and a plate of buttered scones lying on the table between them. So far neither of them had eaten a great deal.

"We have not yet reached the point of abandoning our people, I hope," he said after a moment. "Has there been any word from your father about our proposal."

Frederica nibbled on a scone, delaying her reply. "None," she said, eventually. "And I must say that I think it is as likely that it is deliberate tardiness as indecision."

"Meaning?"

"You must admit, Prince Eugene, that recent events do not – are not – giving the impression of the greatest stability in Armorique at present. The various unwise decisions by your father and now his seclusion, the flight of Cinderella-"

"Cinderella has not fled anywhere," Eugene said sharply. "I thought you were more intelligent than to believe what you read in the lowest sections of the press."

"I'm glad to hear it," Frederica said softly. "If I thought that she was being abused then as her friend I might have to take steps."

Eugene raised his eyebrows, but Frederica's expression admitted nothing. Eugene shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His relationship with the Norman princess was…he didn't know what their relationship was to be perfectly honest. At one point she had hoped to marry him, or at least her father had hoped to marry his daughter to him; at another point he had suspected her of trying to have Cinderella killed; now she and his wife were friends and yet…she was a princess of Normandie first and foremost, and he did not forget that.

 _And yet she just threatened me, so she must care for Cinderella in truth, at least a little._

The thought gladdened him, in spite of the manner in which he had discovered it.

"You were talking about the stability of Armorique," he said. "I can assure you that, whatever might have happened, it is all in the past now. Things will be perfectly stable from here on."

"So you say, but it is still very early days," Frederica replied. "My father may well think that he has nothing to lose from waiting on events for a while longer."

"I see," Eugene muttered. "So you are telling me to expect no reply from Caen for some little time yet?"

"Not until you are proven right and things are stable," Frederica said. "Speaking of which, how is the King?"

"Sick at heart."

"I see, and where did you bury the mistress?"

Eugene's eyes bulged as he nearly choked on his tea. _How in God's name does she know about that?_ They had buried Grace hastily in the garden, and planted rosebushes over her so she could not be found, but they had done it in the dead of night using only men that they trusted absolutely. So how had Frederica discovered the fact? Eugene coughed once, twice, to clear his throat. "Princess Frederica, I don't know what you have-"

"Prince Eugene, if you want to lie to the country that is your prerogative," Frederica said. "If you want to lie to me then I can lie to my father with a clear conscience. But I am not a fool and I am not some naïve ingénue. I know what goes on in the bedchambers of the mighty."

Eugene suppressed a shudder at the thought of what it must have been like for her growing up in the court of Normandie. "Is that why you found it so easy to believe that I might be hurting Cinderella so much she would have to fly to the countryside to escape my clutches?"

"Adultery, cruelty, the murder of mistresses; these are the ways of princes."

"Not my ways," Eugene said. "And not here. If I may say, Princess, you don't know as much as you think about what goes on in the bedchambers here. I should hope that Cinderella has given you no cause to accuse me like this."

Frederica chuckled. "Indeed not, her love for you is most evident…but malice may hide its villainy for a passing while, and a false face of kindness may engender love even from the wisest."

"I assure you that she really has retired to the country for her health."

Frederica nodded. "I will believe you, and when she returns the truth will out in one way or another. Thank you for the tea, Prince Eugene, I'm sorry that I couldn't be of more help."

"It cannot be helped," Eugene said. "Goodbye, Princess; Cinderella is fortunate to have you as a friend."

Frederica smiled. "The good fortune, Prince Eugene, is all mine."

* * *

Anne cleared her throat. "Henry, darling?"

Henry didn't look up at her. He continued to devour his steak with great gusto.

Anne waited a moment to see if he would respond. She ate a little of her own dinner.

They had no guests for dinner tonight, and the children did not eat with them. The younger ones made too much noise, their father could not abide it; Anne thought that Charles was old enough – and mature enough – to comport himself at his father's table with sufficient good manners, even if Helene and Louis were not, but Henry insisted, and so Charles ate in his room while the younger children were fed in the nursery.

As a result, only Anne and Henry were at the dinner table and they could talk – she hoped – without being overheard.

Except that Henry gave no sign that he had heard her speak.

Anne cleared her throat again. "Henry-"

"Yes, yes, I am not deaf," he said sharply. "What is it?"

Anne restrained the sigh she felt building up inside her. "I have had a thought."

Henry made a scoffing sound. "Indeed. What have you thought about?"

"The princess," Anne said. "And what might be done about her."

Henry snorted. "It is a pity that my uncle the King could not beat her into insensibility, or kick her in the belly like Caligula."

"Nero," Anne said quietly.

"Hmm?"

"It was Nero who kicked his pregnant wife, Poppaea, in the belly," Anne said. "Both Poppaea and the child died."

"Nero, Caligula, what is the difference between tyrants."

"Do you believe it?" Anne asked. "Do you think that His Majesty does strike her?" For herself, she would hate to believe it. She didn't really want to believe that the princess for whom she felt such mingled envy and admiration, the princess who had managed to escape the bounds placed upon their sex and find a refuge not only of love but of appreciation too, was nothing more than another woman after all: put-upon, abused, ploughed. She had thought, looking at Cinderella, that it was possible to be more and in so thinking Anne had indulged the fantasy that Helene might find such happiness of her own one day. Now it seemed that that had been nothing more than a fairytale, and it saddened her to think that her own marriage might be as good as it could ever be for women like them.

"I think she deserves to be beaten, and worse," Henry said. "Whether it actually happens…I thought them too soft to do such things."

"I'm glad you didn't try and intercept her on the way to the Summer Palace," Anne murmured. Henry had revived the idea of playing highwayman, and once again Anne had had to talk him out of it – gently, of course – for the sake of the children. "I…I have an idea of how this could be resolved without violence, and without the danger that would come from discovery of a violent plot. What I have in mind would not be treason, but it would get the throne, for our children if not for you."

Henry looked up at her. "I confess I am intrigued despite myself."

"There is no need to attack the princess or her child," Anne said. "All you need to do is attack the marriage."

* * *

 _Author's Note: I've been fortunate to see a couple of very good productions of King Lear recently, including one at the Globe last year, and the King's madness was very heavily influenced by that play because I just think it's brilliant.  
_

 _I went back and forth for a bit on whether to have the Henry and Anne scene, because I don't want to reveal exactly what Anne's plan is yet until Cinderella finds out, but I decided that it was important to show that she's still around._


	21. Idyllic Retreat

Idyllic Retreat

Cinderella fastened her pearls around her neck. It seemed a little silly to be wearing them here, with Eugene far away and no one but her ladies and the staff of the Summer Palace to see her, but she liked them. She liked the feel of them, and she liked the sight of them around her throat in the mirror. It was vain, perhaps, but it was also who she was.

There was a single diamond bracelet around her wrist. Eugene had given it to her, before the wedding, and though she didn't wear it as often as she wore the other gift she had received that day - her beautiful necklace with the sapphire heart - she wore it each day now, so that she could simply look down and be reminded of him, as though he were here beside her.

Lucrecia had delivered to Cinderella some new dresses before she and her household had departed for this retreat, and Cinderella was wearing one of them now. Apart from supporting her bust, they were otherwise completely loose, and flowed all around her as though they were all skirt and no bodice, or as though the waistline had been raised as high as her bust (although the petticoats didn't start until around where a waistline that corresponded more closely to her actual waist would have done); that was all to the good, because Cinderella's more figure-hugging gowns were swiftly becoming untenable. Apart from anything else, Cinderella found that she ended every day with a pot belly and a feeling of indigestion that the doctors assured her was perfectly normal - apparently the child growing inside her was crushing her stomach, making it harder for her to digest - but wasn't any easier for Cinderella to bear. Although she knew with her head that her ladies would never had passed comment upon it, in her heart Cinderella was glad that Lucrecia's sartorial skill concealed the daily bloating of her gut from public view.

Her days at the Summer Palace were as dull and free from unexpected happenstance as she had hoped for. After her arrival, when she retired to bed rather fatigued from the journey, her days here had settled into a pattern of walks around the grounds - Jean had pronounced himself very satisfied with the security of the place, the thickness of the walls, the isolation; in fact according to him short of someone deploying a cannon upon a nearby hill there was no danger at all - the occasional stroll around the nearby countryside, and sitting and talking with her ladies-in-waiting. Sometimes Cinderella would continue with her music lessons, other times she would sit and listen to Marinette or Christine play the piano or the violin. Other times they would simply sit and talk, or her ladies would let her read in peace.

It was dull, it was uninteresting, and it was exactly what Cinderella had hoped for when she had set out here from the Palace proper. No zealous republicans tried to shoot her, no vengeful witches started taking over her, none of her ladies-in-waiting started abusing her, or revealed that they had always hated her from the first moment they met but had been hiding it until now. Everything was normal, everything was nice and pleasant and comfortable. Had Eugene been there it would have been perfect, and even in his absence...Cinderella missed him terribly but she had needed this. She hadn't realised just how badly she had needed this until she arrived and appreciated the calm and tranquility that had been missing from her life so often in the hectic months of her marriage. There had always been worries in the back of her mind no matter how badly Cinderella tried to banish them; but now those worries were gone, and she was in the company solely of those she trusted and she knew to care for her, and she had no worries at all.

Cinderella wrote to Eugene each day, but even as she had been in the Summer Palace for an entire week she hadn't actually sent a single one of her letters, not even a letter summarising her first week as had been her practice the last time they had been parted, when Eugene was in Louisiana. This was because her letters were so boring that she couldn't believe he would be interested in hearing about her days here. Until she got a letter from Eugene at the end of that first week telling her that he was desperate for news and would she please let him know that she was alright, and happy. Cinderella wrote back telling him that it was very sweet of him to care, but to let her know when she started to bore him and she'd stop writing.

One way in which her ladies-in-waiting had chosen to help her, a way of Cinderella was at first ignorant, was in censoring her understanding of what was going on in the wider world. Cinderella didn't realise that they had done this until a letter arrived from Princess Frederica, a letter which seemed to Cinderella to be almost written in some kind of code with references to 'distasteful rumours' and the need to tell her that 'I have spoken to Prince Eugene, who denies everything; but now I write to you hoping that you understand that you can trust me completely with any confidence', not to mention the unusually insistent questioning after her happiness and health. Frederica begged Cinderella to remember that 'I am your friend' and that 'it may be that I can protect you, if necessary' and on in such a vein that might as well have been a foreign language for all that Cinderella could make head or tail of it.

"I just don't understand it," Cinderella said, putting the letter down on the breakfast table that morning. "I can't think what could possibly make her write such a thing."

"May I see the letter, your highness?" Christine asked. "I know it is private, but-"

"Of course, please go on," Cinderella said, picking up the letter and handing it to her. "If you can make sense of it you're wiser than I am."

Christine read the letter in silence, and as she read her mouth crinkled a little and her brow furrowed. Silently, she handed the letter to Augustina, who read it with a similar expression of mounting distaste. Augustina in turn passed the letter to Angelique, who had to speak the words in hushed whispers while she read but otherwise had the same reaction as the latter two.

"What's going on?" Cinderella asked, before the letter could get passed to Marinette in turn. "You all seem to know something that I don't."

"Indeed, your highness," Christine said slowly. "Although the matter is less of wisdom and more of sheer knowledge."

"The fact is," Augustina began. "Princess Frederica is concerned that...some people may believe that..."

"She wants to know if Prince Eugene is hitting you," Angelique said bluntly. "Or if the King is."

The other ladies all looked at her.

"Somewhat indelicately phrased, Lady Bonnet," Christine said.

"If we dance around the issue as much as Princess Frederica did then we'll be here all day," Angelique replied.

Cinderella leaned back in her seat, feeling somewhat flabbergasted that Frederica would ask her...that she woud even think...Eugene would never do that to her, never in a hundred years or more. And, while it was true that His Majesty had struck her - that was one of the reasons she was here, if she was being honest - he hadn't been in his right mind, or she didn't think he had. He had never done anything like that before. "I...why?" she murmured. "Why would she...and how did you all know what she meant so easily?"

All four of Cinderella's ladies looked as guilty as children caught with jam stains around their mouths.

"Ladies," Cinderella said, with a touch of sternness in her voice. "I don't appreciate secrets being kept from me and I don't appreciate being lied to. Three of you at least ought to know that by now."

"With respect," Augustina said. "You're supposed to be here - you are here - for your health, to relax and get away from the problems of the court that have worn down and fatigued you. Exposing you to court gossip and fretful news hardly seemed conducive to helping you get the rest you need."

"That's probably why Prince Eugene didn't mention it either," Marinette said. "He doesn't want you to worry about it."

"That's very well meaning of you all, I suppose, but I'm worried now," Cinderella said. "What are you all keeping from me?"

And that was how Cinderella learnt that the King's attack upon her had been reported in certain sections of the press, and that rumours were flying that she was the victim of abuse by her husband and father-in-law, and that she had either fled for sanctuary beyond their reach or else been sent into seclusion to hide the signs of their abuse from public view.

 _If even Frederica believes it might be possible, what must people who don't know us think?_ Cinderella wondered. _Poor Eugene. Why didn't you tell me about this so that I could help you?_ She ended up writing three letters that day: one to Frederica, assuring her that she and Eugene remained deeply in love, that Eugene would never be violent towards her, and that as much as Cinderella appreciated her concern she should believe everything she read in newspapers; one to Eugene, gently reminding him that she valued honesty in their marriage; and lastly an open letter to the _Gazette_ in which she attempted to put these rumours to bed and reassure everyone that there was nothing to worry about.

 _As humbled as I am to the subject of concern for so many people, I can assure you all that you have nothing to be concerned about,_ Cinderella wrote. _Prince Eugene remains, as he has always been from the moment we met, the love of my life. It was his courtesy and kindness, as much as his good looks, with which I fell in love and he remains both kind and courteous towards me to a fault. I wake up each day amazed at my good fortune to be his wife, and I am delighted to carry his child within me. As for His Majesty the King, he has become - if it is not improper to say so - a second father to me, and I have often found his wise advice to be of immense help. I have retired to the Summer Palace for the sake of my health and the health of the child I carry, not because I am afraid of violence or because I have anything to hide, but because the life of the court is hectic and tiring at the best of times, and at this time and in my condition I must look to the health of the future King or Queen of Armorique. The only reason Prince Eugene has not joined me is his devotion to duty and to all of you, the people of this country._

Cinderella knew that they printed her letter, but whether it changed anybody's mind she couldn't say. Still, she took some comfort from knowing that she had done what she could. Eugene wrote back in a somewhat chastened vein, apologising for having kept her in the dark. Her ladies-in-waiting also loosened the blindfold that they had sought to place around her eyes, although they preferred to tell her the news rather than let her read it for herself.

As her first week in rural retreat turned into her second, and as Cinderella's pregnancy entered its ninth week, she had some real news to write to Eugene about. The royal physician could not attend her so far from the capital, but he had provided the name of a most excellent doctor nearby who could visit to check on her condition. One day, as he was listening to the baby's heartbeat - by the simply expedient of placing his ear to Cinderella's swelling womb - he stopped. He frowned, and changed position, listening to the other side of Cinderella's belly. He then went back to his prior place.

"Is something wrong?" Cinderella asked anxiously, dreading what he might be about to tell her. Was there something wrong with the baby's heartbeat? Was there no heartbeat at all? Had her baby...would she not bear a living child but only...she was terrified, but at the same time desperate to find out.

"Wrong?" the doctor asked. "No, not at all, your highness. In fact you are to be congratulated. I do believe it's twins."

Cinderella's eyes widened. "Twins?" she gasped. "Are...are you sure?"

"I am sure that I can hear two distinct heartbeats, ma'am, neither of them your own," the doctor said. "It also explains why your weight gain is somewhat greater than expected for a single child."

 _Two children,_ Cinderella thought, as she spent the rest of the day in a kind of daze of happiness. _I have two children growing inside me. I'm going to have two children. I hope...I hope it's a boy and a girl, but I will love them just the same no matter what._

Eugene shared her delight when she wrote to him with the news - certainly he ensured it got into all the papers - although it also seemed to make him even more concerned for Cinderella's health than before, and he urged her not to come back until she was absolutely ready.

To tell the truth, as her belly and her breasts alike both swelled ever larger, as she woke up each day heavier than the last, as her back ached and she tiredness and nausea assailed her, Cinderella doubted that she could have faced the rigours of even the journey back to the palace still less faced whatever might be waiting for her there. Certainly, when confronted with the choice, staying here in comfortable seclusion seemed so much more tempting than any travel.

And so Cinderella remained in the Summer Palace, reading or hearing about such things as the formation of a new government under Lord Roux, of the division of the Conservatives between those who stood with Sieur Robert and those who did not, and of the rumours of a new election that would, or so he hoped, give Lord Roux a majority in the chamber.

It certainly engendered some spirited discussion at times between Christine and Augustina.

"Rather opportunistic of your uncle, don't you think?" Augustina asked. "The current Chamber has yet two years to run until it expires."

"You call it opportunistic, Mademoiselle du Bois, I am inclined to call it prudent government," Christine replied. "At present my uncle governs on sufferance of the Conservative Party and their divided factions, but this split between them will not last forever. Once the Chamber is dissolved I expect Sieur Robert will stand aside in the interests of party unity, allowing some new man untouched by the Corn Law battle to unite the party once more."

"There is no man in the party untouched by the Corn Law battle," Augustina replied. "And I wouldn't be so sure about the split so naturally reparing itself. It may seem like the natural thing but...betrayal is one of the hardest things to forgive, wouldn't you agree Cinderella?"

Cinderella sighed. "I'm afraid it is. Once you find out that someone you trusted, called a friend...once they become your enemy or always were...it hurts very much."

"And both sides of the divide have felt the sting of it," Augustina said. "It will not be forgotten quickly, by either of them. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure Sieur Robert and his followers were an entirely natural fit with the Conservative party. I wouldn't be surprised if they found a better home as part of the Liberal coalition."

Christine wrinkled her nose at that. "I hardly think their attitudes would be welcome there."

"Or do you mean that their men wouldn't be welcome there by your uncle?"

Now it was Christine's turn to sigh. "I know what you're attempting to suggest, but it is far from personal ambition to say that our party would not throw over its own chiefs in favour of a splinter faction of their opponents. In any case you haven't proved ideological compatibility, you've simply asserted it."

"Under Sieur Robert the so-called Conservative party has conserved nothing!" Augustina exclaimed.

"Not all things deserve to be conserved, Augustina," Cinderella pointed out.

"Perhaps not, but you ought at least to make an effort if it's in your name," Augustina said.

As it turned out, Augustina felt sufficiently strongly about this that she was working on a book about it, as Cinderella discovered later that day when she dropped in on Augustina to find her working.

"Really? How wonderful," Cinderella said, as she sat down on the other side of Augustina's writing desk. "What's it about?"

"Well, it's called Sybilla," Augustina said. "And it's about..." her cheeks began to flush a little pink. "It's about a young woman, the titular Sybilla, plunged into great poverty until she happens to catch the eye and win the heart of the prince of Armorique."

Cinderella's eyebrows rose. "Really? What a novel idea."

Augustina snorted. "Yes, well...I'd argue there's as much of Angelique's circumstances as yours in there but yes, I'd be a fool to deny that you inspired a great deal of the character. But don't worry, I'm not planning to write a barely veiled account of your marriage, there'll be none of the more lurid shenanigans you've gotten yourself mixed up in. Rather, this is going to be a [i]roman a these[/i], a sort of political picaresque as Sybilla encounters different political arguments from the perspectives of her suitors."

"Suitors?"

"Yes, in order to make the themes of the novel personal Sybilla gets involved in a love triangle between the paternalist patrician prince and the liberal young gentleman Augustin. By choosing the right man she also chooses the right politics."

Cinderella frowned ever so slightly. "Does she have to? Get involved in a love triangle, I mean." she asked. Augustina was free to write what she liked, of course, but Cinderella had been accused of adultery enough times already, and if people made the connection between Sybilla and herself, especially with the author being one of Cinderella's ladies-in-waiting, privy to all her movements and her secrets...well, people might start to think all sorts of untrue things."

Augustina looked a little puzzled at the question, before her eyes widened with understanding. "Oh. Oh, God, yes, I see what you mean. Um, yes, we won't have a love triangle...I'll think of some other way to get the point across."

"I'm sorry if I've just made things more difficult for you," Cinderella said. "But you know what people will say and, well...I'm just not sure if I have the energy to bear any more of that at the moment."

"Nor should you have to nor will you on my account," Augustina said. "I should be apologising to you for not thinking it through enough."

Augustina wasn't the only one whom Cinderella came upon writing. The next morning when Cinderella came out of her bedroom, having just gotten dressed, she found Jean outside sitting at a little table, hunched over a piece of paper as he tried to write.

"Good morning, Jean," Cinderella said. "Don't tell me you're writing a book as well."

Jean got to his feet. "Good morning, your highness. No, I'm not doing anything like that. I'm just writing a reply to my bailiff, I had a letter from him yesterday with some information on how the school is coming along."

"The school?"

"Yes, I," Jean hesitated. "I should not bore your highness with my small affairs, if you will go to breakfast then I will follow."

"Oh no, Jean, you can't pique my interest like that and then stop," Cinderella said. "What is this about a school?"

Jean looked away for a moment. "The old du Villeroi lands which you so generously granted to me...they include not only a lot of land farmed by, by my tenants I suppose but also a village not far from the estate. I'm...having a school built for all the local children, paid for out of my income with no charge to attend. My mother taught me a little of how to read and write before she passed away, but other than that...Angelique only learned her letters when she came here. I hope...it might sound silly but I hope that maybe some of the children can learn enough that they don't have to save the life of a princess in order to make something of themselves."

Cinderella smiled. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, Jean, and not silly, not in the least." She chuckled. "I can't promise that the children will necessarily appreciate it, but that doesn't mean it isn't good of you to try. It is, and very generous."

"Your highness is very kind to say so."

"Wherever did you get the idea from?"

Jean shrugged. "I asked myself what you would do if you came into land and wealth, your highness."

"Oh, you're very sweet to say so," Cinderella said. "But the truth is I envy your local children."

"Princess? What do they have you should envy?"

"I was tutored privately when I was a girl," Cinderella said. "My father spared no expense to give me a proper young lady's education: literature, calligraphy, Greek, Latin, modern languages, music, dancing - that was my favourite, as you might be able to guess - riding...all of it stopped when my father passed away, of course, and I remember almost nothing of it now. You're local children are going to be better educated than I am by the time they're done and yet I'm one with all the power. It seems absurd, doesn't it?"

"They will be better educated than I am, too, but I'm the one they'll be paying rent to when they grow up," Jean said. "It is the way of things, your highness."

 _Yes,_ Cinderella thought. _But should it be?_

And so two weeks turned to three as the days wound on in a kind of pleasant apathy, interrupted by no events of great moment for good or ill, disturbed by no malice and impeded by no villainy, until the day came when Cinderella's ladies came to her with faces pale.

"I'm afraid there's some disturbing news," Augustina said.

Cinderella looked at each of her ladies in turn. "What's going on?"

"There is a move afoot to change the status of your highness' marriage," Christine said. "And in the process strip you of your crown."


	22. Once More Unto the Breach

Once More Unto the Breach

Eugene sat by his father's bedside, his father's hand clasped in his own.

His father had slept all of the day past, his rantings and his ravings, his madness and his anger and his sorrow all subsided into sleep. He no longer called out for Vanessa, he no longer cursed Eugene or Cinderella, he just lay, with his eyes closed, slumbering as best as anyone could tell. Better than he had slept since this vile business began. Passion had made him fitful and restless in the past, but now he slept quietly and calmly. Perhaps it was a fool's hope, but Eugene hoped nevertheless that when his father woke he would be cured of his affliction.

 _Then it will remain only to bind up the wounds she dealt you, if they can be bound._ Would it be possible? Could the nation's new impression of his father as an old goat at best and a violent brute at worst ever be erased? Could Cinderella ever come to trust her father-in-law again, let alone love him? Could Grace's damage ever be undone?

 _She won. She may have paid with her life, but she won. What she did to us will linger on for years like a stinking, infected injury._

But if his father would only wake and be himself again then it would be a start. It would not be a resolution but it would be a start.

As if Eugene's thoughts cried out, and in so crying out disturbed the slumber of the King, his father began to stir. His eyes flickered open and he began, with grunting of effort, to sit up in bed.

"Father?" Eugene asked, clasping the old man's hand a little tighter. "Your majesty? How...are you feeling?"

Father blinked, and looked around him in amazed confusion. "I...I am too tired for one who has slept so long as I have."

"You have slept many hours, but-"

"Hours?" his father said. "No. No, not hours alone. I wake as if from a dream of many weeks duration...or do I sleep still, and dream on yet?"

"No," Eugene said. "No, you are awake."

"Would I could be sure," Father murmured. "Would that I could be as sure that I had dreamed away all the while before, for I am very much afraid that it was no dream at all."

Eugene looked down, and his face was transformed into a kind of scowl or cringe of pain. Would that he could let his father believe it was a dream...but that was an illusion that would not endure a moment's contact with the wider world. "I fear your fears are quite correct."

His father closed his eyes a moment, before he looked upon Eugene as if for the first time. "I...I know your face, and if I am sane again I think you are my son, Eugene."

"I am, Father," Eugene declared. "I am your son, and-"

"And foolish fond," Father said. "You...as I remember now, I have done you great wrong, and greater still to your dear Cinderella; you and your wife have cause to hate me."

"No," Eugene said emphatically. "No cause, and never hate."

Father looked down. "You are very kind, to turn the other cheek against my fury. Where...where is Cinderella? I would apologise, if she will hear me."

"Cinderella isn't here, Father. She's gone to the Summer Palace these three weeks past," Eugene said.

"Fled in terror of me?"

"Retired for her health," Eugene corrected him. "Recent events have wearied her beyond endurance."

"And the child?"

"The children are well, last I heard," Eugene said, with a slight smile upon his face.

"The children?"

"She bears twins," Eugene said. It was a prospect he found both exhilaratingly delightful and terrifying at the same time. Delightful because they would have two children if all went well, and terrifying because of the greater risk involved to Cinderella and to the children. If all did not go well, if something went wrong...how easy would it be for Cinderella to be lost to him?

 _I won't let that happen. Cinderella knows to take care of herself, and so does everyone around her._

"Twins?" Father murmured. He gave a little chuckle of delight. "Twins, praise God." He frowned. "Where is Vanessa? I...I did so much for her and yet now...now when I think of her I feel only revulsion."

"She is gone," Eugene said. "She will never trouble you or any of us again I guarantee it, but…best not mention the revulsion too often. The world believes you have been heartbroken for her these past weeks."

"Heartbroken?"

"We have a lot to talk about, if you are well enough to do so."

"I..." Father sighed. "I have so much to think about. So much time that I have lost and must account. Leave me be, I'll send for you when I am feeling more rested."

Eugene got to his feet. "Of course. I...it's wonderful to have you back, Father."

He turned at the sound of feet running up the stairs towards them, and had just started towards the door when Etienne Gerard burst in.

"Forgive the intrusion, your highness," he said, before he noticed Eugene's father sitting up in bed. "Your majesty, are you well?"

"I am well enough to realise how sick I was, general," the King murmured. "What brings you here so urgently."

"Trouble, I'm afraid," Etienne said. He brandished a newspaper in front of him as he advanced into the room. "I think you're both going to want to read this."

* * *

After her ladies had, with some reluctance, given her the newspaper, Cinderella found that she had to read it twice in order to grasp what the Duke of Cornouaille was advocating for. Once she understood, she also understood the reactions of her ladies-in-waiting to the plan.

What the Duke wanted, and what he was using an open letter that had been given the front page of the _Daily Post_ to argue for, was that her marriage to Eugene was so obviously and inherently unequal, that the difference between their stations was so unbridgeably vast, and Cinderella so unworthy of the crown by virtue of her low estate that her marriage should be regarded as a morganatic one, depriving her and any children she might have of any claim on Eugene's titles, estates and property. That, claimed the Duke, ought always to have been the status of their union and the fact that Eugene had been able to wed Cinderella equally was 'a black mark against the courage of the entire nation that did not dare refuse a prince his most egregious folly'. To bolster his case, the Duke of Cornouaille made great play of Vanessa, proof both that no good came from permissiveness in romantic entanglements between royals and commoners, and that the senior line of the royal family had by their own folly abrogated their right have their wishes respected. It was time, apparently, for the nation as a whole to look to its best interests and sever the diseased branch of its royal family from the vine before the rot could spread.

The duke did not mention that his branch of the royal family stood next in seniority, but Cinderella remembered it nonetheless.

Cinderella set the paper down on her lap and looked around the room, where her ladies-in-waiting sat all around her. "This can't be possible," Cinderella cried. "I mean, Eugene and I have been married for almost a year, surely no one can just say that doesn't count."

"If you had married without the consent of the King then His Majesty could annul the union no matter how long lasting it was," Christine said. "Longevity, I fear, is no defence."

"But Eugene and I had the King's consent, enthusiastically," Cinderella said.

"Indeed, your highness," Christine said. "That may be why the legality of the marriage itself is not called into question."

"The legality of the marriage isn't being called into question because it doesn't suit the duke to call it into question," Augustina growled. "He doesn't want to annul Prince Eugene's marriage in case he married another woman-"

"Augustina!"

"Clearly he wouldn't treat you that way," Augustina said quickly. "But the risk that he might...it suits the Duke much more to trap Prince Eugene in a marriage that voids any claim his heirs might have upon the crown; in such a way he and his children would become Prince Eugene's heirs."

"But can it be done?" Cinderella asked. "It sounds absurd. We married equally, Eugene and I, and I became his princess. I have been a princess ever since and no one has questioned that. I've governed Armorique as Princess Regent. That must mean something."

Augustina folded her hands together in her lap. "I've never heard of anything like this being done before-"

"But just because something has never been done before does not mean that it cannot be done, your highness," Christine said. "I fear that it is not prohibited."

"In ordinary circumstances I'm sure that this would be seen for the self-serving move that it is," Augustina said. "But...these are not normal circumstances. Your unpopularity abated somewhat in the face of Vanessa's odiousness but you are not well liked among the court. Combine that with the damage to the prestige of the King caused by Vanessa and...I'm sorry, but I can see this idea catching on with many people."

"But Cinderella is loved by more people than dislike her," Marinette said. "Many more. And anyway, wouldn't it need the King to present a law to the Chamber stripping Cinderella of her rights?"

"I suspect that's what all the stuff about His Majesty having discredited himself is for," Augustina observed. "If asked to clarify His Grace would probably say something about a regency council to handle affairs in place of an incapable sovereign."

Cinderella's brow furrowed. "So...what you're telling me is that it could be done to us, whether we want it or not?"

"With sufficient support, I'm afraid so," Augustina murmured.

"Can it be stopped?"

"Surely the first question is do you want to stop it," Angelique said.

Marinette, Augustina and Christine all looked at her in astonishment.

"Angelique!" Marinette hissed.

"You ask for honesty," Angelique said, gesturing at Cinderella with one hand. "And so the honest question is 'would this be such a terrible thing if it came to pass'? It's better than what Serena had planned for you."

"That's not a fantastic recommendation," Marinette murmured.

Angelique cringed. "Bad choice of words. What I mean is...nobody's proposing to take your marriage away. You'd still be Prince Eugene's wife, you just wouldn't be a princess, and...sometimes it seems to me that that tiara brings you more trouble than it's worth. Murder attempts, jealous rivals, everything that made you so tired that you had to come here to get away from it all. I know this fellow isn't doing it to help you, I know he's only doing it to help himself but what he's suggesting...you'd still be married to the man you love, you'd still have your children, your home in the palace, your jewels and dresses; you might even still have us if we wanted to stay with you." Angelique paused for a moment, and she licked her lips uncertainly. "I'm not telling you that you ought to give up I'm just saying...before you decide that this is a terrible thing you want to avoid, think about it. You're only here because being a princess has gotten to you; you have the chance to throw that away. Keep the good for none of the bad."

Cinderella was silent for a while. What Angeliqe had said might horrify her other ladies - judging by the expressions which they wore - but there was force and sense in what she said. Why was she here, after all, if not because the strain had threatened to become unbearable for her. She had told Eugene herself that she was weary of being the princess and wished to be Cinderell again for a little while. If the Duke Henry got his way then she would be Cinderella again for the rest of her life. And she would still have her loving husband, the promise of her children, her stepson, her friends and her fine things. She would have all of that without having to worry that those who smiled to her face turned those smiles to snarls the moment her back was turned; she would no longer incur the envy of those who could not brook the humiliation of curtsying to a scullery maid; she wouldn't have to watch her every step and word for fear of what kind of message it sent; she wouldn't be observed at all times, nor have her actions poured over for evidence of scandal or wrongdoing.

She wouldn't have to think or speak or concern herself with anything beyond her own family.

She couldn't, even if she wanted to.

"They want to take my voice away," Cinderella murmured.

"Your highness?" Christine asked.

"They want to take away my voice and silence me," Cinderella said. "As the princess of Armorique...I can speak and be heard, but as Eugene's wife...my voice will be lost."

She would become what they had always wanted her to be: a doll, to be seen and not heard, Eugene's pretty wife to hang from his arm at balls and galas. Would they return to the state their marriage had been in in its early days, she and Eugene, in which he was so preoccupied by his duties - duties in which she could not assist him - that they barely saw each other? Would she be confined to her lofty tower like Rapunzel and only descend upon extraordinary occasion? It was all very well to say, as Angelique did, that she would be better off if she let them take her crown away, but the more that Cinderella thought about it the more - and she did not censure Angelique for her opinion, she said what she believed and did so without malice as she always had - the more she thought it was not so. It seemed so, certainly, at first; but to give up her crown was not just to give up the source of her many troubles, nor even to give up the source of her power but to give up her dignity to give up what had become a part of herself. She had not been a princess for very long - her first wedding anniversary was still a few days away - but to be a princess had become a part of her.

She was not just Eugene's wife; she was his princess and being his princess she had become his partner, his confidante, his fellow councillor. Would his morganatic wife have a place on so august a body as the Privy Council? Cinderella doubted it. She would languish in silence, like a book abandoned on a dusty shelf, her cover fading while her words, as fresh as on the day of printing, languished unread, unthought of.

Jean had asked himself what Cinderella would do if she came into lands and wealth. What would he say if the answer to that question turned out to be that she would abandon all responsibility and care unfought in exchange for a peaceful but ultimately unfulfilling life?

And, to be perfectly honest, it galled her. Ever since Eugene had knelt before her and asked for her hand in marriage people had been talking about her the way that the Duke wrote about her in the _Daily Post_ : unequal, unworthy, unfit. It had distressed her, upset her, reduced her to tears, put her at her wits end and now it was starting to annoy her just a little.

All the more so because she no longer believed it.

Cinderella let out a chuckle.

Marinette frowned. "Cinderella...I'm not sure what's funny about this."

Cinderella sighed. "Nothing, Marinette, really; it's just...I was thinking about how, when Eugene and I first became engaged I probably would have agreed with everyone that an unequal marriage was the best that I deserved, that I should consider myself lucky to be Eugene's wife never mind trying to become his princess as well. None of you knew me in those earliest days but I was so scared."

"Scared, your highness," Christine said. "Scared of what?"

"Scared that Eugene would realise what a terrible mistake he'd made deciding to marry a simple, stupid girl like a me, a servant, someone...someone who had nothing at all to offer him. Even after we were married I still worried that he'd come to his senses and see me for what I really was."

"He did," Angelique said.

Cinderella laughed. "Well, thank you Angelique, that's a lovely compliment; and I might even believe that now. Certainly, now...I don't believe that an unequal marriage is the best that I deserve. I love Eugene but I don't believe that he's so much better than I am that I should be satisfied with his left hand. I don't believe that I should give up on my dreams, on who I am, just because some duke tells me to. I'm not unequal, and I won't be told that I am, not by anybody, not anymore."

"Bravo, your highness," Christine declared.

"So you intend to resist this then?" Augustina asked.

"If I can," Cinderella said.

"And if Prince Eugene agrees," Christine said.

"He will," Cinderella said. "I'm his princess as I'm his wife, and Eugene will fight for me, if I ask him too."

"Are you sure?" Angelique asked. "I mean, I know that you...I watched you work yourself down to the bone for this country and its people once before, I found you collapsed in your room from exhaustion because you were trying to push yourself through illness for duty; and you weren't carrying two children then. I don't...is it really worth what this fight could take out of you? You could give it all up, live the easy life."

"You mean the life where everyone will be free to treat Cinderella as badly as they always wanted to, since she has no royal title to protect her?" Marinette asked.

Angelique blinked. She snorted. "What kind of a world are we coming to when you're more cynical than I am?"

Marinette looked down. "I just think...if my father taught me one thing it's that you only see how people really feel about you, how much they actually care about you, when you've lost everything. In his case, in the case of my family, it turned out what everyone really felt was indifference. I'm worried it might be worse for Cinderella."

Angelique frowned. "Maybe," she conceded. "I'm just worried that...sometimes I think you think you owe this country your body and soul and you don't."

"Perhaps not," Cinderella said. "But there's also the question of what I owe myself."

Angelique stared at her for a moment, and then she smiled. "Well, if this is what you want then I'll be right behind you just like always."

Cinderella smiled back. "I'm glad. I couldn't do this without you, Angelique."

"Now who's flattering who?"

Cinderella covered her mouth as she laughed. "Still, the question remains, what can I do? How...how can this be stopped?"

"It's a battle of opinion," Augustina said. "This won't happen without overwhelming support. The entire Establishment will need to come together to demand this in order to impose it on you. You and Prince Eugene just need to win hearts faster than His Grace can."

"So simple, but probably so complicated at the same time," Cinderella said. "Marinette, will you please make the arrangements for us to leave tomorrow? We're going home."

"I'll start at once," Marinette said.

* * *

Eugene's fist struck the wall. "This is absurd! They can't possibly do this!"

"They have no legal means to compel you, that's true," Etienne said. "But they can make life pretty untenable if they all choose."

"They?"

"The Establishment," Etienne clarified.

Eugene's scowl deepened. They had repaired from his father's bedchamber because Father needed his rest more than he needed to see Eugene get angry about the latest underhanded plot to attack Cinderella.

An overturned table and a broken vase nearby testified to how upset he was.

"On the bright side," Etienne continued. "At least nobody's actually trying to kill her this time. Or you, for that matter."

Eugene glared at him. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Doesn't it?" Etienne replied. "At least she's in no physical danger."

"Not particularly," Eugene said, in a voice as cold as ice. "I'm afraid it's hard to see the positive side when all you can see is red at this dirty, despicable, utterly unjustified...how dare he! How bloody dare he! You know he's only doing this because he'll be king when I am gone if he succeeds."

"Obviously," Etienne said. "But the question that you need to ask is...does that matter? After all, you'll be dead."

Eugene glared at him with such force that Etienne retreated back a step. "Here me out," he said. "For just a moment."

Eugene took a deep breath which failed to bring him any calm whatsoever. "Go on, but be quick about it."

"You fell in love with Cinderella when she was nothing at all-"

"Cinderella was never nothing."

"You know what I'm saying," Etienne insisted. "You fell in love with her when she was just a girl, you married her when she was just a girl, why does she need to be a princess now?"

"Because she's my wife now, and she deserves to be my real wife, my equal wife with no qualifications or second bests or consolation prizes to appease the snobs who have never liked or appreciated her!" Eugene snapped. "And because...because morganatic marriages are awful for the bride. Do you know Prince Adam of the Franche-Comte?"

"Not personally," Etienne replied. "But I know of the Franche-Comte. Despite its small size its prince is one of the Imperial electors."

"He married morganatically, the rules for equal marriages in the Empire are cast-iron and he'd fallen in love with a village girl...a pretty thing but I can't recall her name," Eugene said. "I attended their wedding, do you know where they sat at the wedding feast?"

Etienne blinked. "I'm guessing the answer isn't as obvious as 'together'?"

"He was at the head of the table, the Emperor hadn't bothered to grace the marriage," Eugene explained. "And she was more than halfway down the table, far closer to the bottom than the top, separated from him by every royal guest and every titled relative and every...she looked so uncomfortable. I don't remember her name but I remember the way she looked. I don't doubt they loved one another but...I won't put Cinderella through that, I won't let her be treated that way."

"Don't you think you ought to ask her what she wants first?"

"You can't possibly think that Cinderella will want this?" Eugene demanded incredulously.

"She left because the strain had gotten too much for her," Etienne replied. "This...your cousin deserves many foul epithets but he's offering her a way out from that."

"And at what cost?" Eugene demanded. "To Cinderella...to me?" He sighed. "It's selfish, but...not having her around these last few weeks has brought home to me how much I've come to rely on her. She's not just my lover any more, she's my partner. I'm not sure if I could do this without her. She has so much to offer this country still."

Etienne was silent, and as still as stone. "You do realise that if you fight this, if you dig your heels in over it...you could lose more than Cinderella's crown."

"The thought had occurred to me," Eugene said. He turned away from Etienne and leaned against the wall. "But I'd rather give up my own rights than meekly surrender Cinderella's without a fight."

Etienne said nothing.

"You disagree," Eugene said.

"I didn't say that."

"Your silence spoke eloquently on your behalf; you think I'm making the wrong decision."

Etienne shifted uncomfortably. "I...oh, who am I to talk to you about this, I turned down a title from Cinderella rather than put Lucrecia in this kind of position. But I'm sure some non-royal duchy would be found for her, it's not as if she'd be a mere Madame. You say that she'd be badly treated but let's face it, she already is."

"Things can always get worse."

"Perhaps," Etienne said. "The truth is...I'm worried that you can't win this. Neither of you are popular enough with the right people to muster the support to block this."

"And Henry is?"

"People don't have to like him," Etienne replied. "They just have to dislike Cinderella."

Eugene's face twitched with irritation. If he had had his cousin in front of him right now he would have quite cheerfully strangled him. "Why does everyone have to treat her this way? Why do so many have to hate her when Cinderella is so easy to love? Tell me honestly, do you think it would be a good thing for this country if Cinderella were to be stripped of her rights and claims upon my titles."

"Honestly? I think it would be a minor tragedy," Etienne said. "She may not have noble blood but she has a nobler heart and mind than most of the actual nobles."

"Then why are you trying to talk me into this?"

"Because I don't want to see you both get hurt," Etienne declared. "Because I don't want to see you forced to sign away your own place in the line of succession as well as Cinderella's rights, because surrender is less humiliating than defeat in certain circumstances...and because I don't see how you can win. I just...I don't see a way. Too many are against you."

"They can't all have made up their minds already," Eugene said. "There must be some way that they can be persuaded, if only to oppose Henry's power grab. There has to be." He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "I'll talk to my father, and I'll write to Cinderella, but unless she tells me that she wants this I intend to fight for her rights."

"Steep odds."

"Too steep for you?"

Etienne snorted. "Since I can't talk you out of this fool thing I suppose I'll have to follow right behind you. Do you have a plan?"

"Not yet, I'm afraid," Eugene said. "I have a few ideas, but nothing firm. I know what I need to do - make us popular - but that...that's easier said than done."

* * *

Frederica set the newspaper gently down in front of her. _Retroactively morganatic marriage. Who would have imagined?_ It was unheard of, in her experience, but then she supposed that - since morganatic marriages could be retroactively declared equal within the bounds of house law, consent of the sovereign and such things - there was no logical reason it couldn't work the other way.

That didn't mean that she was in favour of the idea.

 _What fools these people are._ It was a thought that had crossed Frederica's mind more than once as she had observed the hostility of the Armorican court towards, quite frankly, one of the best princesses they could have gotten or where ever likely to get. Yet still they were determined to bring her down, like a ravenous pack of dogs.

"Anton," Frederica murmured. "Do we have anyone in the household of the Duke of Cornouaille?"

Her faithful retainer bowed his head. "I fear not, highness; they were not here when we arrived and there seemed little need after."

"Quite," Frederica said. "But there is some need now so see to it, will you? The more highly placed the better, of course." Suborning servants to confess the secrets of their master to you in exchange for money was one of the best and most reliable ways of getting inside information, not least because most servants were paid so badly that they would readily accept any approaches made their way, but the quality of information obtained could vary tremendously. A cook, for example, was too far removed from the goings on of the master of the house to offer more than rumour and gossip passed down from other servants, whereas a gentleman's valet could tell you everything about his master if you could get to him.

On the other hand, of course, there were risks involved in reaching too high. A gentleman's valet - or a lady's maid - might feel more personal loyalty to their master or mistress than a more lowly servant, and either refuse the offer or worse reveal the game. It was for that reason that, when Frederica had decided that she wanted a pair of eyes in Cinderella's chambers - it wasn't that she didn't trust Cinderella when she said that there was nothing to worry about, it was just that Frederica found trust alone insufficient medicine to mitigate her concerns - she had recruited the chamber maid Penny rather than Cinderella lady's maid Duchamp; the risk that the latter's loyalty might be to Cinderella made it unwise even to approach her.

But Anton knew what he was doing; she trusted him to strike the right balance when it came to the household of the Duke and Duchess.

Cinderella probably wouldn't approve, anymore than she would approve of Frederica spying on her for Cinderella's own good; but what Cinderella didn't know wouldn't hurt her, or their friendship.

 _Morganatic marriage._ Frederica was of the opinion that if this was allowed to happen it would be a disaster not only for the ungrateful nation of Armorique but also - and more importantly - for Cinderella herself. Morganatic marriage was something about which the only positive thing that Frederica could say was that it was better than a flat refusal of permission or inability to marry 'beneath your station' at all; by every other measure, however, it was an appalling thing which frequently led to an appalling life for the bride (and it almost always was the bride in these situations). She wondered if Prince Eugene recalled Prince Adam of the Franche-Comte, and his wedding to a certain Mademoiselle Belle, a girl of no particular family from one of the villages nearby his seat. When Frederica's father discovered she had attended the wedding he had let her know that he was displeased with her, but Frederica had been feeling rather down after Toulon and had hoped that a wedding party might lift her spirits. What it had done was match her own self-pity with pity for the poor girl who was forced to spend her own wedding feast seated on the other side of the room from her husband, surrounded by ghastly people who weren't even making an effort to conceal their contempt for her, by the strict observance of royal protocol.

Frederica remembered how the young lady had attempted to shrug off the discomfort and discourtesy. She had always been an outcast, so she claimed, she was used to being seen and treated differently. She was in love, and she would be loved and understood and appreciated in this place once all the guests were gone. Maybe that was true, for the girl's sake Frederica hoped so, but if so...it suggested what Frederica had already been inclined to believe, that in order to survive a morganatic marriage you needed to have a thick skin and a carefree lack of concern for the opinions of other people. Cinderella didn't have either of those things. She was getting better at learning when not to care what other people thought about you, but she still cared and she could still be hurt by the scorn of others. She wasn't the sort of girl who could be content to hide in the sanctuary of her palace, where the knowledge that one man recognised her for the treasure she was outweighed the fact that the rest of the world could not perceive her worth. She would hate to be placed in such an invidious position: neither fish or fowl, condemned to a life of having backs turned upon her and doors slammed in her face. It would be unbearable for her.

 _I will save her from it, if I can._

 _If I can._

 _If anyone can._

* * *

 _Author's Note: I'm not sure, contra Frederica, that a scheme like the one Anne has come up with would actually work in real life; but you know, this is a fanfiction set in a mostly made-up country about a girl whose fairy godmother made her a dress that turned to sparkles at midnight._

 _I kind of like this plot line because it doesn't involve anyone trying to murder anyone else; there's nothing wrong with violent plots but because Cinderella isn't a violent character they tend to leave her a bit of a damsel in distress. This plot will play to more of her strengths, or at least allow her to be more of an actor in it._

 _Plus, I have to admit, that a lot of this springs out of the fact that I find the idea of morganatic marriages quite fascinating. I almost wish I'd started the Rose and the Crown with an attempt to force Cinderella and Eugene to have one, but I'm not going to go back and re-write that story for the third time._

 _A few chapters ago Cinderella sounded a lot more sympathetic to the idea of morganatic marriage than she does now; I admit that is partly because since then I've done a little more reading on it and come to realise how awfully the women who had to make do with such marriages got treated by their new in laws._

 _Lastly, what did you think of the Beauty and the Beast reference? I'm considering an actual crossover story once this one is over so I'd like to know your thoughts as readers._


	23. Strategy

Strategy

"Thank you, Duchamp," Cinderella said, as Duchamp finished applying a smoky shadow above her eyes. "Duchamp?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

Cinderella pursed her lips together for a moment before she spoke. "When...when this starts to look too ridiculous, you will tell me won't you?"

"Ridiculous, ma'am?"

Cinderella waved her hand to encompass herself, and her reflection in the mirror. "I suppose there will come a point when no amount of gowns or jewels or makeup will make me look presentable," she said, with a hint of a nervous laugh. "When the day comes, please tell me if I haven't noticed for myself; I wouldn't want to give people another reason to laugh at me."

Conscious of the fact that she was going to be seeing Eugene for the first time in three weeks - and that he was going to be seeing her - Cinderella had made an especial effort; her blue gown sparkled with miniature diamonds sewn into the silk, not to mention the glittering golden thread around the high empire waistline; her arms were enclosed within long opera gloves while diamonds and sapphires climbed both arms and neck; her hair was styled in the elegant twist that Eugene preferred, and a silver tiara was set in it. That last was as much a statement of intent as anything else: she was Eugene's princess and she meant to remain that way.

"If I may, ma'am, there are times I think you worry too much."

Cinderella chuckled. "I'm worrying about the little things, Duchamp, because...because the largest thing is simply too large. I can't...I'd rather not contemplate it for too long."

"I wish I had some comfort to offer you, ma'am."

Cinderella smiled, if only slightly. "Just hearing you say that is comforting enough, Duchamp. Whatever happens next, I hope that I'll be allowed to keep you with me."

"I hope that too, ma'am."

Cinderella's smile widened just a little as she looked away from the mirror and at the older woman beside her. "Thank you," she said softly. "Now, are we ready to go?"

"I believe so, ma'am."

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Cinderella called.

Christine came in, her silver gown flowing behind her. "Your highness, the last preparations are being made. We will be ready to leave as you wish."

"Thank you, Lady Christine," Cinderella said. "Duchamp, will you please take my bags down to the coach?"

"Of course, ma'am," Duchamp said, picking up the last of Cinderella's cases and carrying it out of the room.

"Lady Christine, will you please sit down," Cinderella said, gesturing to the chair in the corner of the room. Cinderella herself sat down on the bed, with her hands resting lightly on her knees. Her rings glittered on her fingers and Cinderella toyed with them for a moment, turning her wedding ring over and over while Christine sat down. "I feel as though we haven't had the chance to talk privately, you and I."

"Your highness has been very busy."

"A lot has happened," Cinderella agreed. "But still...are you happy here? How are you finding everything?"

"It is not what I expected, your highness, but it is not unpleasant."

Cinderella looked at her. "Is there no way that I can persuade you to be less formal with me."

"I'm afraid not, your highness."

Cinderella shook her head ever so slightly. "I'm afraid you're really not what I expected at all."

Christine tilted her head a little to one side. "Really? I might say the same about you, your highness."

"Is that so?" Cinderella asked. "What were you expecting?" She tried to keep the suspicion out of her voice, because Christine hadn't done anything to deserve a suspicious tone, but on the other hand it was hard not to hear that and consider that there was some kind of insult on the way. Christine might not intend it that way - she seemed to have a habit of speaking her mind - but that didn't mean that what came next wouldn't hurt.

Christine's expression was impassive as she said, "Honestly, your highness, I was expecting a heartless master manipulator?"

"A what?" Cinderella demanded, covering her mouth with one hand to stifle the laughter she could not still.

"You defeated Serena du Montcalm, by inspiring them to move against you you lured most of your enemies out into the open where you could destroy them all with unassailable proof of their transgressions," Christine said. "To me, and I don't think I was alone in this your highness, that seemed like masterful strategy."

"Really?" Cinderella said, wondering just how allowing herself to be poisoned while a coup was carried out against her could be considered masterful. "I never meant for any of that to happen."

"With respect, your highness, I'd rather gathered that by this point," Christine said dryly. "If your highness will forgive me for saying so you are clever but you are rarely wise."

"That...that is probably fair," Cinderella murmured. "If anything it might even be fairer to me than I deserve. Lady Christine, is this your way of telling me that you don't think I'm making the right choice."

"The right choice, your highness?" Christine said. "I think that you are absolutely making the _right_ choice. When I first came into your service I thought there must be something cold and cruel behind your smile and affable demeanour; I was convinced that your sweetness hid something rank behind it. But...I was wrong. There is no hidden machiavel, there is no spider pulling the strings; there is just a woman who has demonstrated courage and compassion."

"But not wisdom."

"You have demonstrated a tendency to place yourself somewhat in the path of harm, highness, even when not strictly necessary."

"Sometimes the harm isn't clear until later," Cinderella pointed out.

"True, your highness," Christine agreed. "But sometimes it is."

"Do you think it is now?"

"I think," Christine hesitated for a moment. "I think Lady Bonnet was probably correct to point out that this may tax you, and I think you understand that. But I also think that we all agree that this cannot, ought not, happen."

"I don't want it to," Cinderella said. "But...Lady Christine, please forgive me, but-"

"Do you wonder why I am on your side, your highness?" Christine asked. "Or do you perhaps wonder if I deceive you in my affections like Lady Serena or Lady Grace?"

"This may be my lack of wisdom speaking," Cinderella said, with a slight smile. "But I think if you were trying to deceive me you wouldn't be so formal all the time and you would have started calling me Cinderella a long time ago, Lady Christine." Serena and Grace had certainly taken to her first name quickly enough; Theodora had gone a step further and called her Cindy. None of them had stood on ceremony the way Christine insisted upon.

Christine chuckled. "Your highness makes an excellent point."

Cinderella was silent for a moment. "Why are you on my side, Lady Christine?" she asked. "You don't know me as Angelique, Augustina or Marinette do."

"True," Christine said. "But I have observed you these past weeks and, if you are not the cunning genius I thought to find what I have found instead is nothing to be despised."

"Um, thank you?" Cinderella murmured

"Indeed, that was a compliment, your highness; I apologise if it was improperly stated," Christine replied. "You do not gamble, you don't sleep around, you don't even flirt or play the coquette with other men."

"I should hope not," Cinderella said indignantly.

"That was another compliment, your highness, not every woman in society is so restrained and as for men..." Christine trailed off, letting that thought hang in the air a while. "You enjoy the finer things in life - clothes, jewels - but you don't spend vast fortunes on them or force His Highness to spend fortunes for you."

Cinderella chuckled. "I have so many jewels already that asking Eugene to buy me more would seem a little ridiculous, don't you think."

"Again, your highness, that wouldn't stop everyone," Christine said. "The point that I'm trying to get at it is that you have no vices; you're conscientious and you work hard for the good of the country. Armorique could do a lot worse than you, just as it could do a lot better than the Duke and Duchess of Cornouaille." She smiled. "And you're a Liberal, which certainly helps."

"I don't think I should agree with you there," Cinderella said gently. "I seem to have enough enemies without making more out of a whole political party."

"Very well, your highness," Christine said. "Although it must be said that so far a demonstration of your political aligns far more with us than with the opposition. But let that aside and I think, I can't believe I'm about to say this, that I agree with Mademoiselle du Bois: you may not have been born to aristocracy but you exemplify its best qualities."

Cinderella bowed her head. "If I succeed in keeping my crown, Lady Christine, I will be try to be worthy of your kind words in future."

"If we succeed, your highness."

"If we succeed," Cinderella murmured. She glanced down at her right hand. Her wedding ring glimmered there, a band of gold upon the white of her glove.

 _If they ever place this ring upon my left hand, I shall be lost._

"I think," she said. "That we should be going. We're probably keeping everyone waiting."

"It is a princess prerogative to make others wait upon her pleasure," Christine said. "What are we, after all, but ladies-in-waiting?"

Cinderella smiled as she got to her feet. "It may be my prerogative, but it isn't my pleasure to keep you waiting any longer."

Christine followed Cinderella - making sure she didn't trip or fall going down the stairs or along the way - from the bedroom to the hallway. Despite this, they didn't leave right away because it would - Cinderella felt - have been rude to leave without first thanking the diligent staff of the Summer Palace for their hard work in taking care of her these past three weeks. Without them she would never have felt so relaxed and well-rested as she did - even with the threat of the Duke's proposal hanging over her head - and she made sure to tell them so, maids, cooks and gardeners all.

"I'm sorry to keep you all waiting," Cinderella said to her waiting ladies when that was done. "But they do so much for all of us I feel as though the least we can do is let them know all of their hard work is appreciated." Her step-family had never let her know that her work was appreciated, but if they had it might actually have made it so much more bearable.

"It's quite alright," Marinette said. "We're ready whenever you are."

Cinderella smiled, and picked up the folds of her flowing gown between her fingertips. "Well, I'm ready now, so shall we go?"

Once before Cinderella had returned from the Summer Palace to the main seat of the royal family in the capital. The last time had been almost a year ago, when she and Eugene had come back from their honeymoon. Then, Cinderella and her beloved prince had ridden together in the carriage while her ladies-in-waiting had been, indeed, waiting for her. Now it was her prince to whom Cinderella returned, while her ladies-in-waiting shared her coach with her as it rattled down the dirt roads. Cinderella wasn't sure if it was her condition that made her feel the bumps more or whether the road had gotten worse, but either way it was not the most pleasant carriage ride that she had ever experienced.

Still, Cinderella tried to take her mind off the bumping up and down that was making her whole body shake and jerk and concentrate upon matters of greater import.

"I value the advice of each and every one of you," Cinderella said. "If you have any ideas as to what I should do, what Eugene and I should do, I'd love to hear it."

"You must neither beg nor be defensive," Christine declared. "You cannot ask to please remain Armorique's princess or Prince Eugene's equal wife. You have been wed by the right hand in the sight of God and all the nobility and good burghers of the realm; the crown is yours and you are fighting for your rights not asking for a favour; you must always remember that and reflect it in your actions and bearing, your highness."

Augustina glanced at her. "In the sight of God? Are you sure you're in the right party."

Christine shuffled in her seat. "One doesn't choose to be born into one's family, and one doesn't choose the politics of the family into which one is born; I...I won't deny I have a certain romantic enthusiasm for the old ways, the king upon his white horse that sort of thing."

"Cutting off the hands of people who strike royalty," Angelique said with a trace of a smirk.

Christine shrugged. "It doesn't mean that I can't recognise that the problems of the modern day require modern solutions."

"You could appeal to the people," Angelique said. "They like you, even if the court doesn't."

"That is absolutely what you mustn't do," Augustina said. "Your popularity with the people is exactly why you are not popular with the court."

"I thought it was because of snobbery," Angelique said.

Augustina cringed. "Yes, well, that too. But the fact remains that the scent of populism that clings to Cinderella does make many good and respectable people uneasy. One spontaneous uprising can be forgiven, but if you're response to every argument or challenge is to rouse the mob or even threaten to then you will be thought no better than a tyrant. You will be no better than a tyrant. And tyrants invite more desperate solutions than rendering their marriages morganatic."

"People have already tried to enact those worse solutions," Cinderella pointed out gently. "Even when I had done nothing."

"I know, and you know that I don't condone it," Augustina said softly. "But when Serena tried to raise the nobility against you she cried out that the realm was in danger, that you would overthrow our entire social system. Do you really want to prove her right?"

Cinderella lowered her gaze as she was rocked by the juddering motions of the carriage. "No."

"Then you must answer this on the ground that has been chosen by your enemies and defeat them there," Augustina said. "Otherwise you will only store up worse trouble for yourself later on even if you triumph today."

"But how?" Cinderella asked. "Where do we begin?"

"You must win hearts," Augustina said. "Just as you won ours and as you won the hearts of the people."

Cinderella frowned. "I won the hearts of the people by being myself, but that's what the nobles don't like about me."

"I'm afraid I didn't say it would be easy," Augustina replied. "But it is the only way." She was silent a moment. "In your condition, how capable do you feel of travelling?"

Cinderella sighed. "I...I'm honestly not sure right now," she said. If anything, that was something of an understatement. The movement of the coach was starting to make her feel a bit ill, dizziness was making it a struggle to concentrate on what her ladies were telling her, and she was beginning to regret ever leaving the Summer Palace. If she could get home without having to vomit - if she could get through this conversation having understood everything that was said to her - it would feel like a minor miracle at this point. "Why?"

"It occurs to me that aside from these two visits to the Summer Palace and the occasional day out you've never really left the capital," Augustina said. "As a consequence you're largely unknown in the provinces save for what people read in the newspapers."

"What the newspapers say is often hostile," Cinderella pointed out, and her general discomfort made her tone come out even more miserably than she had intended.

"True, but people in the country can judge what they see with their own eyes and hear with their own ears," Augustina said. "Even assuming the court is a lost cause, there is more to Armorique than a dichotomy of court and crowd. You should get out into the countryside, attend a hunt ball, meet the gentlemen who are the backbone of Armorique. I'm sure there are some royal estates you could stay at, or my family would be happy to host you at Palliser in the south. If you can win a sizeable number of the gentry to your cause you will be very strongly placed."

"I...I'll see how I feel," Cinderella said. It was probably very good advice, but quite apart from the question of her health and condition there was also the fact that Cinderella didn't feel she was likely to shine in the countryside. She couldn't ride, at all - she'd stopped trying to learn after being thrown, stunned and told that she was lucky not to have broken her back or cracked her skull like an egg - and even had she been a great equestrian she would have had no desire to hunt for fox or hare or any other creature. She might do alright at a hunt ball, provided that it was less hunt and more ball, but Cinderella was afraid that she would only embarrass herself and Eugene amongst country folk, or alienate them by her disinterest in their ways.

 _Yet do I have any other choice? how can I really refuse?_

She would talk to Eugene, she decided, and see what he thought about the idea.

"The other avenue to take is the parties," Christine said. "The Duke will never be able to push this through without support in the legislature. And while Mademoiselle du Bois' suggested approach may bear some fruit with the country party you will need a different tack with Liberal grandees. I should start with your radical corn-law friends and see what can be done from there."

"Your radical friends might want you to embrace more radical causes, that will rouse as much enmity as it bears fruit in goodwill," Augustina said.

"It should be attempted," Christine insisted.

"And I will," Cinderella said. "Angelique, Marinette, you've been very quiet."

Angelique shrugged. "This isn't my field, and I'd rather say nothing than give you bad advice."

"I'm almost as lost as Angelique is," Marinette said. "After my father...I don't really know very much about all this sort of thing. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Cinderella said. "After all, I'm in the exact same position as the two of you."

About halfway home the royal party stopped at a roadside tavern, for which Cinderella was very grateful as it meant that she was granted some relief from the jolting and juddering of the coach, and she could get out for a moment for some fresh air. She had to sit down again for a few moments while she waited for the dizziness to subside, but once it had Angelique accompanied her on a stroll around the lonely inn while Jean followed a few steps behind.

"How do you feel?" Angelique asked.

"I'll be fine once we get back, I think," Cinderella said. "I hope. Although I'm afraid I won't be visiting Augustina's seat any time soon if this is what it's going to feel like."

"Please tell me the last three weeks haven't been undone already," Angelique said.

Cinderella laughed. "No. I still feel so much better than I did then. After Grace, after Serena, after everything...I needed to get away from it all, and I did. But I can't sit idly by while a part of what I am is taken away from me."

Angelique nodded. "I understand. I still worry about you but I understand why you have to do this." She snorted. "It's a pity you can't just get a crowd outside this duke's house and frighten him into shutting up, though."

Cinderella shook her head. "Augustina's quite right, but even if she weren't...if I used the people like that I wouldn't deserve their help."

Angelique shrugged. She was silent for a while, and so was Cinderella as they walked across the cut and tended grass with their long dresses trailing behind them.

"Mostly," Angelique said. "I'm not going to say what you should or shouldn't do; I trust Augustina knows what she's doing, and while I don't trust Lady Christine the same way I can't say that she's wrong. But I will say this: I'd hate to see you stop fighting for what you believe in because you're afraid of what people will think."

"What do you mean?"

"What Augustina said about radical causes," Angelique said. "Yes, if you throw your support behind another corn laws or whatever you'll upset some people. Maybe even some people who weren't upset with you already if that's possible. But I wouldn't...I know that you have to defend your rights and I know that you need support to do that, but the thing that I admire most about you is the way you do the right thing no matter how hard it is. I...I wouldn't want to see you put your crown ahead of that."

"Nor would I," Cinderella said quietly.

Angelique looked down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, Angelique, I wasn't rebuking you, only agreeing with you," Cinderella said quickly. "And I hope, that if you see that happening, you'll let me know."

Angelique grinned as she nodded. "Gladly."

As they prepared to head off again, the innkeeper told Cinderella that no matter what happened, she would always be queen in people's hearts, for which sentiment Cinderella thanked him even as she hoped to be his actual queen one distant day, and the innkeeper's adorable little daughter gave her some wildflowers, for which Cinderella gave her a kiss on the forehead.

She kept the flowers in her lap as the carriage set off again.

Cinderella wasn't entirely sure how long it was, another two or three hours perhaps, but after some while longer - having transition from dirt roads onto the louder but no more comfortable cobbled thoroughfares - the carriage and all its escort clattered through the gateway and onto the grounds of the palace, coming to a stop in front of the steps leading up to the great doors.

A rider had been sent on ahead to tell Eugene that she was coming, and so as Marinette opened the door and climbed down first, Cinderella saw Eugene coming down the steps towards her.

Cinderella knew that she had changed over the three weeks that she'd been away - she'd gotten bigger and heavier, even if her new style of dress was concealing it to an extent - but he looked just the same as when she left him.

"Eugene," she whispered delightedly. "Eugene!"

"Cinderella," he replied with equal gladness in his voice; he came closer, descending the steps two at a time, moving only a little too slowly to be called running, Cinderella could see that she was wrong to think he hadn't changed. He looked wearier, and honestly in need of a little of the rest that she had just had. It was such a pity that he hadn't been able to come with her.

Cinderella climbed out of the carriage just as Eugene reached it. He put his arms around her, and before he had even said another word to her apart from her name he had kissed her. Cinderella allowed herself to melt into his arms, putting her hands on his shoulders as his arms entwined around her body and pulled her close. It left her breathless, but ended far too soon.

"I've missed you," he said.

Cinderella smiled. "I know, because I missed you too."

"How was it?"

"Not as wonderful as if you'd been able to come with me, but lovely all the same."

"I'm glad," Eugene said. He took a step back, but only so that he could put one hand on Cinderella's belly. "Twins. For the love of God, twins."

"I know," Cinderella said, with a shake of the head. "I still can't believe it myself. Twins, I mean..." she sighed. "There are times, when everything is going on and I feel as though I've done something terrible to offend fate and then there are other times...there are other times when it seems fortune has blessed us."

Eugene looked a good deal less sure of that. "You...you didn't have to come back," he said.

Cinderella's brow furrowed. "I think we both know that isn't true."

Eugene began to lead her up the steps into the palace, with one arm around her waist. "I don't want this," he said. Cinderella hoped he was referring to the Duke of Cornouaille's desire, not to her children. "I don't want to lose you as my princess," he added, proving Cinderella's hopeful assumption right. "I don't intend to let it happen without a fight. But...what matters most to me is you, your health and that of the children. I'd rather have a living morganatic wife and living children then a dead royal bride in a royal tomb. So promise me you won't...be careful with yourself."

"I will," Cinderella promised. "But I couldn't just wait in the Summer Palace for news while our marriage is taken away from us."

Eugene chuckled. "I worry about you, but I'm glad that's how you feel. As I said, I don't want this, but if you hadn't wanted to fight I wouldn't have." He glanced behind him. "Have you been talking strategy with your ladies-in-waiting?"

"Have you discussed it with General Gerard?"

Eugene chuckled again. "A little? Have you had any ideas?"

"Perhaps," Cinderella said. "Lady Christine says that we have to be bold, we can't beg for what we already have. And that has given me an idea, although I'm not sure how good it is."

They finished climbing the steps and passed into the palace, walking down the hall past the rows of guards who lined the corridor.

"What are you thinking of?"

Cinderella looked away for a moment, and a slight giggle escaped her lips. "I think...this is going to sound silly, but I think we should have a grand anniversary party. It's only a few days away, and I can't think of a better way to tell the world that we mean to defend our marriage than to celebrate one year since our wedding day."

Eugene laughed.

Cinderella looked down at her flowing, sparkling gown. "You think it's a foolish idea."

"On the contrary," Eugene said. "I was thinking the exact same thing."

Cinderella looked up to see Eugene's face lit up by a smile.

Her eyebrows rose. "Really?"

"Really," Eugene said solemnly. "It is the best statement of intent that we could make; less obvious than answering Henry's open letter with one of our own but not so subtle that it will be lost on anyone. And we can tell who is receptive to our cause by who actually comes."

"Do you think we should answer the letter as well?" Cinderella asked.

"After the anniversary, when we've seen how the land lies," Eugene said, as he led Cinderella out of the corridor and into the grand hallway, where the stairs up to the ballroom rose up above them and a multitude of doors and lesser staircases led away.

"Cinderella?"

The voice that spoke to them was more timorous than Cinderella had hear it before, softer and more tired, but it was nevertheless a voice that Cinderella could not fail to recognise, and a voice that made both Cinderella and Eugene stop in their tracks.

His Majesty the King stood by the ballroom staircase, almost looking as though he were lurking there, half concealed in the shadows. He stepped out fully into the light, his shoulders hunched, his head slightly bowed. He wrung his hands as he took a step towards them.

 _Please don't come any closer._ Cinderella thought. She tightened her grip on Eugene's arm. Eugene himself looked thoroughly miserable.

"Cinderella," the King repeated. "You...you have returned."

"Yes," Cinderella said softly, and without much enthusiasm. "Your majesty."

The King was silent for a moment. "You look lovely."

"Your Majesty is very kind to say so," Cinderella replied with cool courtesy.

The King wrung his hands once more. "This business...it is very ill. I hope nothing will come of it."

"I feel the same, your majesty."

The king nodded absently. "I...Cinderella, I-" He took another step towards her.

While still holding onto Eugene, Cinderella found herself taking a reflexive step backwards, and half behind her husband as though he were her shield as well.

 _Please don't come any closer._

The King saw her retreat, and stopped. "Cinderella..." he murmured.

"I am sorry for all that you have suffered, your majesty," Cinderella whispered. _But I suffered too, and I cannot forget it._

The King nodded. He did not look at her, nor at his son. "I...I am weary. I will retire, and rest awhile."

He turned to go, seeming diminished from the man that he had been...the second father Cinderella had come to love.

Cinderella bowed her head and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Eugene. I'm truly sorry but I...I can't, not yet." _Someday, I hope; but not yet._

"I understand," Eugene said. "I may not...I hate absolutely everything about this, but I understand. And I won't force you to do anything until you're ready. Unless you're ready."


	24. Anniversary

Anniversary

The next few days were spent in frantic preparations for the anniversary celebration.

Cinderella wished that she could have looked forward to it more. This was her anniversary, one year since she and Eugene were wed, she should have been able to look forward with joy and mounting anticipation to a celebration of their love and the new lives that would be brought forth from that love. Instead she was faced with using the occasion as a time for politicking for things that she ought to be able to take for granted at this point – yes, it had been her idea, but that didn't mean that a part of Cinderella didn't resent having to do it nonetheless – trying to get people who as a rule had not shown any inclination to like her on her side so that she could continue to call herself a princess, could continue to be Eugene's lawful equal wife, so that her children could inherit their grandfather's throne one day even though none of those things should have been up for discussion.

She tried to busy herself in the party preparations, but that was rather difficult when everyone around her seemed to consider it their job to take work off her and take it on themselves. Her ladies, passing members of the palace staff, even Eugene. They all meant well, and the fact that she got tired so much more easily now meant that it was probably for the best that nobody was relying on her to do an enormous amount of work, but it also meant that Cinderella was left with a much larger amount of time to dwell on her misgivings than she would have liked.

This had been her idea – or at least she had had it at the same time as Eugene had, and separately from him – and the fact that Eugene agreed that it was a good idea suggested that she hadn't been completely stupid about it, but all the same as the days ticked down towards the night of the party Cinderella could feel her fears and misgivings growing inside of her. It was all very well for everyone to tell her that she needed to convince people of the rightness of her cause, but how? These people hated her, or were at best indifferent to her situation. So many of them never seemed to miss an opportunity to humiliate her, to insult her, to mock her, to make her feel small and sad and lonely. Was that to be her fate at every social function? More specifically, was it to be her fate on her anniversary night? Was it just going to be another evening of being belittled and scorned? There were times when Cinderella didn't see how it could be anything else. Then she reminded herself that it was her job to make sure that it was not, and resolved – tried to resolve – to make a success of the evening ahead.

Fortunately, although Eugene didn't seem to feel that she was up to helping get ready for a party, he did seem to think that she was up to joining him in and before meetings of the council. Possibly because it didn't involve any standing up or going anywhere. Whatever his precise reasons, Cinderella was glad of the fact that she still had something to do beside brood for the next few days, since she would have gone out of her mind with nervousness otherwise.

The council meeting held the day after her return from the Summer Palace was her first time meeting the new ministers whom Lord Roux had appointed to the government. Different men, but of a very similar sort to those who had worked with Sieur Robert: sombrely dressed men in frock coats and tall hats with very little visible expression in their eyes. It was impossible for Cinderella to tell what they thought about her, or whether they supported her and Eugene or whether they agreed with the Duke of Cornouaille.

In any case, that was the not any of the matters which they were gathered to discuss (another thing for which Cinderella was thankful, as she had more than enough time to think about that).

Lord Roux coughed into one hand as Cinderella and Eugene took their seats. "Good afternoon your…highnesses. Will his majesty be joining us?"

Eugene looked noticeably uncomfortable for a moment. "No. He will not."

Lord Roux was silent for a moment. "I see. Very well then, perhaps we could begin with the Hispaniola situation."

"I believe that we will receive a response from the Normans as soon as the political situation has stabilised," Eugene said.

"And when will that be?" asked the Foreign Minister Lord St Cyr, who managed to at once be older than Lord Roux while at the same time looking more vigorous by far. "At present we seem to lurch from one crisis to the next."

Cinderella bowed her head a little. He didn't say that the procession of crises were her fault, but at the same time he didn't have to. She knew the truth without having to have it pointed out to her.

"This business of my cousin and his hopes is not a true crisis," Eugene declared, more in hope than in conviction – or so it seemed to Cinderella at least. "It is merely a notion of an ambitious man with no seriousness or substance behind it. No one can entertain it with any credibility."

Lord St Cyr looked incredibly sceptical about that, but said nothing. Cinderella wondered if he was entertaining the Duke's suggestion.

 _If he is, what could I do to change his mind?_

He shuffled in his seat. "And yet, with the Normans realise this? We should begin making contingency plans in case this proposed deal comes to nothing."

Eugene sighed. "Such as, my lord? If we even raise the question of compensation we may get a stampede to take advantage of it. Let us give the issue more time."

"We don't have unlimited supplies of time."

"St Cyr, that will do," Lord Roux murmured.

St Cyr scowled in disgruntlement. "Very well then, not Hispaniola. May we talk of the war in Anjou, then? The Imperial forces have crossed the Loire, and driven the Angevins back in disarray."

"Bad news for the Angevins, to be sure, but of less concern to us," Eugene said. "We are neutral, and I see no reason why we should break with our neutrality now."

St Cyr leaned forward on the table. "Your highness, neutrality was a fine position when it seemed that the Angevins might prevail in their war, but it seems less so now that the fortunes of the field have turned against them. My information is that the Flemish are on the verge of collapse, and the banks of Albion are beginning to refuse any additional credit. They may not last much longer."

"Surely you're not suggesting that we should get involved in a war, my lord?" Cinderella asked. "It was not very long ago that we finished one war in which so many men perished or were injured, a war in which the Normans were of great assistance to us. If we fight again…surely you can't be suggesting that's what we ought to do?" She could not bear it if Eugene rode to war again, not now, not so soon. Watching him sail away had been bad enough before, but now? He could not leave her to deal with all of this, he couldn't leave their children to come into the world fatherless. Fatherless…oh, God, what if he rode away and never came back at all, like so many men had never returned from America? Wasn't it enough that they had won one war that they had to immediately go looking for others?

St Cyr looked at her, and Cinderella was surprised to see that his eyes were not unkind or without sympathy. "Princess, I am suggesting that it is not in the national interest that the Holy Roman Empire should come to completely dominate Gallia. It would not be good for us to have so powerful a neighbour, and it would not be good for Europe if the balance of power were to be so grievously upset. However, I am not advocating a military solution; certainly not at first resort. I would like the council's permission to seek a diplomatic solution, perhaps by means of a conference to settle the Burgundian Question hosted here in Armorique."

Eugene said, "Would either side agree to such a thing?"

"Probably not in the present state…seeming instability in this country," St Cyr said. "But if, as your highness says, it is merely a temporary state of affairs then it would be best if we began as soon as possible."

"I think that sounds like a splendid idea," Cinderella said. She didn't want any son of Armorique to have to go to war again so quickly, but if there was a way that they could help to end a terrible war without having to get involved themselves then shouldn't they take it? Didn't they have a moral obligation to take it?

If, as Lord St Cyr reminded them, they could get the country calmed down and put this issue of her status that was causing the uproar to bed once and for all.

Eugene agreed with her, and no one gainsaid them, and permission was given to the Foreign Minister to put out his feelers.

From then, the council meeting moved on to domestic policy, and Cinderella was gratified to see that there was no talk from Lord Roux or his ministers about expanding the workhouses. Rather, instead, Lord Roux produced a proposal for His Majesty's consideration for limiting the extent to which children could work in factories.

Cinderella placed her hands gently upon the paper in front of her as she studied the document that Lord Roux had produced. It limited the number of hours that children could be put to work – which was welcome enough – but it did little more than that.

"I thank you for this, my lord," she said softly. "It is clearly very well intentioned, but I'm not sure that it goes far enough."

"In what sense, your highness?" Lord Roux asked. "Would you like the hours to be reduced yet further?"

 _Preferably yes, to zero in some cases_ , Cinderella thought. She said. "Six years old seems very young to be allowed to work. Are you sure the limit should not be older?"

"Small hands are needed to reach into the machines," Lord Roux said. "Especially when those machines are still running."

Cinderella swallowed. _Still running._ She didn't want to think about how dangerous that was. She thought about some small child sticking his or her hands into the grinding gears of some belching machine, and in her imagination the child wore Philippe's face, or the faces that she imagined for her children in her daydreams. And in her dreams they cried out, they screamed in pain as their hands got caught in the monstrous machines.

She shuddered.

"Your highness?" Lord St Cyr asked. "Are you quite well?"

"Cinderella," Eugene murmured, reaching out to take her hand. "Are you alright? Is something wrong?"

 _The fact that children are used in such a way._ Cinderella shook her head. "I'm alright, darling, thank you. Thank you for your concern Lord St Cyr. Lord Roux, I hope you're not suggesting that the risk to the children is outweighed by the need for profit?"

Lord Roux looked as though he might be suggesting that, but did not say so. Instead, he murmured. "Your highness, if these children are not at work then where will they go?"

"To school, perhaps," Cinderella suggested. She pursed her lips for a moment. "I wouldn't want you to think that I'm attacking you, my lord, I'm sorry that I've given that impression, I just think that we could go so much further, and perhaps we should."

"If you will, Lord Roux, perhaps you could leave this here with us," Eugene said. "That we can study it further, and in greater detail."

Lord Roux shrugged. "As your highnesses wish."

The meeting went on for a little longer, discussing various matters of less consequence or – frankly – interest, before breaking up. Eugene and Cinderella would have discussed the proposed Factory Law further, but Eugene had to go at that point in order to review a regiment of Fusiliers, and so Cinderella took the paper with her to discuss with her ladies-in-waiting.

"You don't think I was too harsh, do you?" Cinderella asked, as Eugene helped her climb the stairs up to her chambers. "Lord Roux seemed just a little put out."

"I don't think that you were harsh at all," Eugene said. "I think that you exercised your rights, and in a good cause what is more."

"You agree with me then," Cinderella said. "It's a good start, but it should go further?"

Eugene's brow furrowed. "I…I am very glad that there are no children here. It happens in some places, children apprenticed as servants for chimney sweeping and the like."

"I know," Cinderella said softly. "I was one of them."

Eugene looked at her. "When you…I didn't…so young?"

Cinderella nodded.

"Did they make you go up the chimney?" Eugene asked.

Cinderella nodded again. She closed her eyes, fighting back against the memories of that awful task that she had dreaded more than any other. The closeness of the walls of the chimney around her, the soot that made it so hard to breathe, the darkness all around her. She didn't want to remember any of it. Most of all she didn't want to remember the way she'd screamed in fright and panic and begged to be allowed to come down.

She didn't want to remember the way that her Stepmother had made her stay up there until the task was done no matter how much she screamed.

The day she had grown too big to climb up the chimney any more was one of the happiest days of her life, and wasn't that a terrible thing?

A terrible thing that children across the country still endured.

Eugene already had her hand in his, but his grip became firmer and more comforting. "As I said I'm very glad that we don't do that here. I think…I know that I don't spend as much time with Philippe as I should but when I do, when I see him playing with his toys or…to think that there are children his age crawling underneath great engines or through mines or up chimneys I feel…"

"I understand," Cinderella whispered. "In this, I think we are of one mind."

Eugene nodded. "We'll talk more when I get back, and see what we can do to make this good idea even better."

He escorted her up to her chamber, where Cinderella was received into the arms of her waiting ladies, while Eugene bid her farewell and set out for his inspection. Cinderella lost no time in filling in her ladies on what had transpired at the council meeting, with particular attention on the proposed factory law.

She didn't entirely get the reaction she was expecting.

"If I were you, your highness, I would get rid of this as quickly as possible," Christine said. "I'm not sure how, but kill it. Kill it now and stone dead too."

Cinderella's eyes widened. "Lady Christine…I don't understand. I really…I don't understand at all, surely you can see that this is a wonderful start that could be so much more. We should improve it, not destroy it. You can't be in favour of continuing to treat children like slaves, putting them in danger, keeping them trapped like this. Please, Lady Christine, please tell me that's not what you really think?" In some ways, she would rather find out that Christine was a secret enemy like Serena, someone who pretended to be kind but held Cinderella in contempt, than find out that someone that she liked and whose company that she enjoyed was both Cinderella's friend and capable of such callous cruelty towards a whole section of the population.

 _Surely she could not have misunderstood what I was about so completely?_

Christine scowled for a moment. "No, of course not, I…I understand and I even sympathise, believe me, but…we must look at the larger picture here and direct our efforts first and foremost towards your preservation for the…we need to consider the-"

"I believe what Lady Christine is trying to say, if she could only find a way to say it that wouldn't make those involved sound appalling self-centred," Augustina declared with more than a touch of acid on her tongue. "Is that the kind of fat middle-class mill owners and industrialists who lauded your views on Free Trade will not appreciate your taking a strong stand against their abuse of their workforce. Doubtless Lady Christine fears they will turn on you in consequence."

Christine's face was red, whether with anger or embarrassment Cinderella could not be sure. "Yes. Yes, curse you. There will be many in the Liberal party who oppose this on the grounds of _laissez faire_ economics and the freedom of the markets."

"The freedom of the markets?" Angelique repeated. "The freedom of the markets? What does a market need freedom for?"

"If it is in the best interests of everyone that juvenile workers should be treated better then the markets will see that it is so," Christine said. "So many will argue, anyway."

"You could compost a garden with that," Angelique declared derisively. "It stinks worse than any compost."

"Though I don't have Angelique's gift for a sparkling turn of phrase, I have to say that I more than half agree with her," Cinderella said softly. "I don't see how anyone can justify leaving things the way they are; I don't see how I can justify leaving things the way they are when I have the power to help change them."

"I am not saying 'do nothing' your highness," Christine said. "I am saying 'do nothing at this moment', when things are so finely balanced, when you need all the help and all the friends that you can get, you shouldn't do anything to upset the allies that you already have."

Cinderella clasped her hands together on her knee. "Do you really believe that they'd turn against me? All of them?"

"Not all of them," Christine said. "There are those who are in favour of these kind of welfare reforms, my uncle would not have proposed even this limited measure otherwise. But there will be those who oppose any interference with the freedom of commercial enterprise and, in so opposing, they may look to His Grace the Duke as a guarantor of their interests against your meddling."

Augustina leaned forward in her seat, rubbing the bridge of her nose with one hand. "One hates to say I told you so, but I did tell you when you decided to get involved in the Anti-Corn Law League, I did try to warn you that these people had no real concern for the wellbeing of the poor, only for their own profits."

"Yes, you did," Cinderella said quietly. "But whatever their motives I needed their help at the time."

"You still need their help."

"I hope to have their help," Cinderella said. "But I'm not going to sacrifice a good and worthy measure aiming to protect the lives and wellbeing of children in order to do it."

"Instead you're going to sacrifice your crown and your power to do good in the future in order to have the temporary self-satisfaction of doing the right thing now, no matter who it alienates?" Christine replied.

"I can't turn my back on people who need me, on children who need me," Cinderella said. One hand went to her swelling belly. "Not now, especially. My stepson is of an age when he could be working in a mill himself if he weren't so fortunate. Am I supposed to ignore that?"

"You're supposed to be sensible," Christine responded. "If you do this you could lose everything."

"I could lose everything whatever I do," Cinderella said, still speaking softly and gently. "At least…at least I will be able to tell my children that I did what I thought was right. I hope you can understand that, Lady Christine, and I hope that you'll be still be on my side in spite of my foolishness."

"It's not foolish at all," Angelique said. "If…the fact is that you are doing the right thing and there's no two ways about that, but if you do want a reason beyond that think of what the people will say if you kill this law. You might think you have good reasons but all they'll see is that you're turning away from them the moment it isn't in your interest to help them out. And I doubt they'll forgive it either."

"For what it's worth – although I think your mind is probably made up already – I think there will be many honest Conservatives sympathetic to this," Augustina said. "Many of us have often said that these people should start taking responsibility for their employees if they want to be seen as gentlemen. It might even persuade some who were…not best pleased with your attitude to the grain tariff to see you in a new light: as a true champion of the people and not just a liberal puppet."

"Will it balance out the allies that she'll lose?" Christine asked.

"Let's not pretend that this was ever going to be easy," Augustina said. "I don't think it increases the difficulty all that much."

"Lady Christine," Cinderella said. "As Augustina has guessed my mind is made up. I certainly won't kill this, and I will do what I can to see it strengthened."

Christine stared at her for a moment, and let out a slightly exasperated sigh. "In one move you both show why you ought to be the princess of Armorique and demonstrate why you might not stay that way. I am with you, your highness, until whatever end you lead us to."

"Thank you," Cinderella said. She yawned. "And now…I'm afraid that I'm feeling a little tired, would you all mind excusing me for a little while?"

"Of course not," Marinette said, as she rose from her seat. "Send for us at once if you need us."

Cinderella smiled. "I will thank you."

The ladies curtsied, and took their leave. All except Angelique, who lingered in the sitting room door looking uncertain.

"Yes, Angelique?" Cinderella asked. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I…" Angelique hesitated. "You really are doing the right thing. Political considerations aside, how this affects the fight aside…you really are doing the right thing. The truth is…the truth is I'm sorry if this makes life more difficult for you, but…if you'd done as Christine suggested I'm not sure if I could have…the people wouldn't be the only ones seeing you in a new light."

Cinderella smiled faintly. "Did you ever really think that I would do such a thing?"

Angelique snorted. "No, not really, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve praise even if it is in your nature. Those places…they need sorting out."

"Did you ever work in one?"

"No," Angelique said. "No, not me. In the workhouse we worked for the workhouse, and then…but Jean did, when he was younger. He doesn't like to talk about it, that's how I know it must have been bad. You can ask him about, or try to, but…you're doing the right thing."

"I'm glad you think so."

"And don't worry, we'll get through the rest together, even if does get a little harder."

Cinderella chuckled. "I'm sure we will," she said. "Together."

Of the King, Cinderella saw practically nothing in the few days that preceded the anniversary party. He didn't come down to dine with Eugene and herself, for which Cinderella was honestly grateful; she wasn't sure if she could have sat down at his left hand after what had happened last time. Even though it wasn't his fault, even though Grace and her hold over him was gone...she wasn't sure if she could have done it. His Majesty stayed in his room, eating alone, and though Cinderella could see that Eugene was pained by this arrangement he didn't press her to do anything about it, or comment on it at all. She couldn't express how grateful she was to him for that.

Sometimes she would catch a glimpse of His Majesty here or there, and it would seem as though he was watching her, or he might want to speak with her, but either he would falter at the last moment and retreat back into hiding or Cinderella would avoid him before he could come near. It might be cruel of her, perhaps even cowardly, but she was afraid and she couldn't just forgive. She couldn't say how grateful she was that everyone seemed to understand that.

It was only on the day of her anniversary that His Majesty seemed to finally gather the nerve to speak to her. Cinderella was in the library with Angelique, reading up on factories and any current laws - there were not many - pertaining to the conditions there. Work like that was not only necessary but a great help for taking Cinderella's mind off of tonight's party and the worst that might happen there.

Some of the descriptions of conditions in these mills and factories were harrowing, and the ones that were not were disturbing. Such things went on there, such things the owners got away with. Cinderella hadn't asked Jean about his own experiences - she didn't want to bring up any memories that he would rather keep buried within his head, or intrude unnecessarily into his privacy - but if he had witnessed things such as he was reading, of children maimed or killed, crushed to death or losing hands and arms as they cleaned machines while the machines while the machines were still in motion; it was a miracle that he was yet so good and kind.

So engrossed in her reading was she that Cinderella was surprised by a cough drawing her attention. She looked up, and a gasp escaped her lips as she saw the King standing in the doorway watching her.

"May I have a word with you, my dear?" he asked tremulously. "Please?"

Cinderella shut her book with greater force than she intended. She looked around. There was another door to the right of her. Cinderella began to get up. "I'm sorry, your majesty, but I have to go-"

"You were in no hurry to leave until I arrived," the King said. "Can you not give me one moment."

"I'm afraid not, your majesty," Cinderella said, the words spilling out of her mouth. She picked up the folds of her dress in her hands and took a step towards the door. "If you'll excuse me I really must-"

"Wait just one moment blast you!" His Majesty snapped as he strode towards her. Cinderella flinched at his tone.

Angelique sidestepped into place between the two of them, with her own body barring the King's progress.

"With respect, your majesty," Angelique said, not unkindly but at the same time with an unyielding firmness. "Your voice will carry from that distance, I think."

The King stared at her. "You cannot think I mean to hurt her."

Angelique was silent for half a moment. "No, your majesty, I don't think that. But I also think that doesn't matter; you don't need to mean to hurt the princess to scare her."

His Majesty flinched from her words. "Cinderella," he said, speaking over Angelique's head, his tone beseeching. "Please, I...what I did was terrible, no doubt, but...I was not myself. It was my hand but it was not my intent. Can't you find it in your tender heart to forgive me? Can we not return to how we were before?"

"There is nothing to forgive, your majesty," Cinderella said softly. "As you say you were not yourself, and I know that. But you hit me, and you frightened me, and I can't...I'm afraid my heart cannot forget that. Not yet, anyway."

"When?" the King demanded. "When can we be a family once more?"

Cinderella looked at him a moment, and then looked away. "I'm not sure if we can ever go back to the way we were, your majesty. I...I loved you like a father but...I don't know."

The King bowed his head. "You have cause to hate me, no doubt."

"I don't hate you, your majesty," Cinderella whispered. "I'm just afraid of you."

His Majesty waved away the distinction as though it was without difference. "I...for what I did and said I am truly sorry, my dear. For whatever it may be worth...you remain as dear as a daughter to me." He turned away, but looked back at Cinderella over his shoulder. "Is there any way that you could at least stand to be in the same room as me?"

Cinderella clasped the folds of her gown tighter. "I...I don't know, your majesty. I...I...I will try."

The King was silent a while. "Thank you, Cinderella. That is all that I can ask. Now, I won't disturb you any further." He walked away, and closed the door behind him.

Cinderella closed her eyes, plunging herself into darkness. In the dark, she felt someone take her head.

"You didn't need to do that," Angelique said. "You didn't need to promise him anything."

Cinderella opened her eyes. Angelique stood in front of her, holding Cinderella's hand.

Cinderella sighed. "Yes, I think I did. The way things are is hurting Eugene, and besides there is the council to consider. His Majesty is the King he should attend, he needs to. If I can't be in the same room as him then I will have to give up my place...and I don't want to do that."

"All the same," Angelique murmured. "You shouldn't feel as though you have to forgive him, or pretend it didn't happen or get over it. No one can ask that of you, nobody has the right."

"I forgave my stepsisters even though I knew, or should have known, that they hated me," Cinderella said. "How can I do less for someone who loves me?"

"That was your choice, it wasn't forced on you," Angelique said. "It may not have been a wise choice, but it was yours."

Cinderella nodded. "And so is this."

Angelique paused for a moment. "Yes. I suppose it is, isn't it?"

* * *

The night arrived. The night of their anniversary. One year ago today Cinderella and Eugene had both been at the Summer Palace for the start of their honeymoon. One year ago today she had just become a princess. And now she was about to fight to stay that way.

Cinderella held out one opera-gloved arm as Duchamp clasped a diamond bracelet around it, the latest in a stack of diamond and sapphire bracelets climbing upwards from her right wrist. Diamonds on the right, pearls on the left, sapphires on both. Around her neck it was a similar story: diamonds, sapphires and pearls all. She had forsaken the wedding necklace that she would have loved to wear - she made do with wearing the diamond bracelet Eugene had given her before the wedding instead - because it didn't seem quite regal enough for the occasion. Instead she wore four strings of pearls looping around her neck and plunging downwards from it towards the high waistline, then a diamond choker clasped around her throat with a gleaming sapphire set in the centre of it. More sapphires dangled from her ears.

As Cinderella murmured her thanks over the bracelet, Duchamp was already reaching for the diamond tiara sitting on the dressing table, lifting it up like a bishop to place it upon Cinderella's head.

There was a knock at the door. "Your highness?"

Cinderella looked around, shuffling on the stool so that she was half-facing the door. "Yes, Jean?"

"The..." Jean cleared his throat. "The Duchess of Cornouaille is outside, asking to see you."

Cinderella was silent for a moment. The Duchess of Cornouaille, the wife of the man who was trying to take her marriage away from her, was outside asking to see her. She glanced up at Duchamp, but the latter looked as confused as Cinderella felt. What did she want? Why was she here?

 _Do I want to see her?_

There was no easy answer to that, or rather the easy answer to that was no, but at the same time Cinderella couldn't help but think that she probably ought to see her. There might be a good reason why the Duchess was here, perhaps even a helpful one.

 __And if it turns out that she only wants to gloat or insult me or threaten me or anything like that I can ask her to leave.__

 __And if she will not go, then Jean is outside.__

"Is she alone?" Cinderella asked.

"Yes, your highness, I am quite alone," the Duchess called from outside the door. "May I come in? It's rather rude to keep me standing out here."

 __Isn't it also rude to try and take the equality of my marriage away from me?_ Cinderella thought. "Come in," she said. "Both of you." She rose to her feet._

Jean opened the door, allowed Lady Anne to come in first, then stepped in himself, closing the door behind him.

Lady Anne, Duchess of Cornouaille, was dressed in a peach-coloured gown with an overlay of fine lace that masked but did not conceal the gown beneath. A necklace of diamonds and rubies coiled around her neck and descended downwards in swooping parallel with the daring neckline of the dress. A lover's knot tiara, that looked almost a twin to the one that Cinderella had been about to wear, crowned her head and sat atop her dark brown hair.

Tonight her eyes seemed more green than hazel. They gleamed as they regarded her. "You look very lovely, your highness."

[i]Is she mocking me by giving me a style that her husband is trying to take from me?[/i] "You look very beautiful tonight yourself, your grace."

"I am beautiful, as are you," Anne said. "We look as we are, little more." She glanced over her shoulder at Jean. "Is there any need for this man to stand here breathing down my neck?"

"Jean is here for my protection," Cinderella said softly.

Anne's eyebrows rose. "Do you think I'm here to kill you?"

"I mean no offence, your grace," Cinderella said, her voice brittle. "But I don't know why you're here."

Anne was quiet a moment. "Are you angry?"

"I'm afraid that I'm upset, your grace," Cinderella replied. "Did you know what your husband was going to do?"

Anne smiled. "Did I know? It was my idea. Not that the world will give me credit for it but...I feel as though I can tell you, if I can tell no one else you will understand...because we're a lot alike, you and I."

"Are we, your grace?"

Anne's smile faltered. "Probably not," she confessed. "But I'd like it if we were."

"Why?"

"Because your accomplishments are remarkable, all the more so considering your sex," Anne said.

"No, your grace," Cinderella said. "I mean why are you doing this?"

Anne did not respond immediately. She clasped her hands together momentarily. "The papers say that you are with twins. Is that true?"

"Yes," Cinderella murmured. "Or so the doctors tell me, at least."

Anne chuckled. "I don't know how you feel about it, but...they will hate each other, I hope you realise that."

Cinderella had not, in fact, realised that and didn't immediately see why she should. "I hope that all my children will love one another, as I will love them all."

"And if they were not in the line of succession - if, say, your marriage were only a morganatic one - you might have some hope of that," Anne said. "But the younger will always resent the fact that they came second, and the elder will never be wholly comfortable around who so clearly resents them."

"Are you trying to tell me that this is for my children's sake, your grace?"

Anne took a step forward, and might have taken another step had Jean not placed a hand upon her arm to forestall her.

She regarded him coldly. "Paranoid fellow, aren't you?"

"With respect, your grace, her highness has been through enough to engender paranoia in the most unwary of protectors."

Anne's smile returned to her face. "You're very loyally served, your highness."

"I am very grateful for the loyalty that I am given, your grace," Cinderella said. "Jean, let her go."

Jean released the Duchess, but Lady Anne made no move to advance further. She said, "We were neither of us born to royalty, and that being so I doubt that either of us can really understand what it must be like to be the younger son of the King, to be doomed to irrelevance except in the case of dire tragedy. My late father-in-law was well provided for by his father but nevertheless he was consumed by anguish over the fate of his birth. Kingship is the dream he passed on to my husband, an inheritance more vital than all the lands and incomes of the Duchy. This is the dream of my husband's family, and I...I am his wife, his helpmeet; it is my place to assist him in his endeavours."

"No matter who it hurts?" Cinderella asked.

"Do you think about who you hurt before you do whatever you want?"

"I try not to hurt anyone."

Anne snorted. "Do you really believe that? Are you blind to how you are hurting this country? You are dangerous, your highness, and being dangerous you cannot be allowed to remain in a position to wreak your havoc and disorder."

"Dangerous?" Cinderella repeated. "I'm afraid I haven't the faintest idea what you mean, your grace?"

"Pandering to the mob," Anne declared. "Fuelling their appetite, giving them their way, taking their side against the august and venerable families of the court, are you really blind to what you're doing?"

"I believe I'm helping those who cannot help themselves," Cinderella said, thinking of the children in the mills and mines and factories.

"The mob is like a wolf-" Anne began.

"I wish you wouldn't call them the mob, your grace," Cinderella said. "They are just people. We would be just like them if we were not so fortunate in our marriages."

"The more you feed them the more you encourage them to come back for more," Anne said. "And when you have nothing left to feed them they will eat you alive. And all the rest of us with you."

"I don't believe that," Cinderella said. She remembered the incident that had first brought the poverty of the people to her attention, the angry crowd outside the palace gates protesting the high price of bread. There had been no such anger from them since, no march on the palace demanding further concessions or extracting them with threatened menace.

"You'll forgive me if I don't intend to let you prove yourself wrong, your highness."

"I hope you will forgive me if I don't intent to let you do that, your grace."

Anne regarded her coolly. "I see. We shall just have to let the fates decide, I suppose. Your highness."

"Your grace."

Jean stood aside as the Duchess took her leave. When the door closed he said. "Your highness...I do not understand why she came here."

"I'm not sure," Cinderella said. "Perhaps she just wanted someone to know what she'd done." _She said that no one else would understand. I wonder why not._

Cinderella finished getting ready with the help of Duchamp, and had finished by the time Eugene arrived to escort her downstairs.

"You look," he said. "As beautiful as the day we were married."

Cinderella giggled. "You look as handsome and dashing as you did then, but I'm getting more visibly pregnant every day."

"And yet still beautiful," Eugene said. He held a wrapped box, bound in a scarlet ribbon, lightly in one hand. He crossed the room, and gave her a kiss. "Taurillion tells me that the Duchess of Cornouaille was here?"

"Yes, but it's alright," Cinderella said. "She said what she came here to say and then she left."

Eugene nodded, and held out the box to Cinderella. "For you."

Cinderella tentatively took the box, and set it down on the dressing table as she untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. She gasped. A pair of glass slippers sat snugly surrounded by a velvet lining. They began to sparkle as the candle light hit them. A smile spread across Cinderella's face as she plucked one of the slippers from out of the box and held it lightly in her hands, turning it over to look at it. It looked almost, but not quite, like the slippers that she had worn to the ball just over a year ago. It was not quite so smooth or so rounded, but still so beautiful, and so lovely; and such a wonderful gift.

Cinderella's smile only broadened as she tore her eyes away from the slipper and looked up at her husband. "Oh, Eugene."

Eugene smiled down upon her. "I know that this is a public and political event, but it's still one year since we were wed. Happy anniversary, darling." He kissed her again, leaving Cinderella breathless and trembling. "I love you. Whatever happens, never forget or doubt it."

"Never," Cinderella whispered. She put the slipper back in its box, looking down on them for a moment. "Do you think...do you think that I could wear them tonight?"

"I don't see why not, if you want to," Eugene said.

"I'm worried that I might have become a little too heavy," Cinderella confessed.

Eugene wrapped his arms around her. "You're exaggerating. Try them on the see."

"I don't want to break them."

"You won't, I'm sure," Eugene said. He kissed her on the cheek. "Go on. I can tell you want to."

Cinderella smiled as she sat down upon the stool and exchanged her slippers for Eugene's glass gifts. They were cold upon her skin, like wearing ice. Thankfully her feet hadn't swollen in size - yet. Now was the moment of truth, Cinderella pushed herself up onto her feet and waited. Nothing. No crack of glass shattering beneath her, no sense of imminent falling as she lost her balance, nothing. She stood still, and the cold glass bore her up.

"Nothing to worry about," Eugene said. "How do you feel."

"Magical."

Eugene's smile was broad as he offered her his arm. "Are you ready?"

Cinderella took a deep breath. _This is it. This is where it starts._ "Yes," she said, and took the offered arm. "Goodnight, Duchamp."

"Goodnight, ma'am, I hope you have a productive evening."

Eugene led Cinderella out of her room and down the stairs.

"Christine thinks that if we do change the proposed factory law, or even support it, some of the liberal politicians will abandon us," Cinderella said as they walked down the stairs.

"But you want to do it anyway," Eugene said.

Cinderella snorted. "You know me too well."

"A husband should know his wife at least as well as I know you."

Cinderella shifted her grip on the crook of Eugene's elbow. "Do you think I'm making a mistake. Do you think we should do nothing, or even do what Christine suggests?"

Eugene was silent for a moment. "Ordinarily I might say yes. Be pragmatic, play the long game, that sort of thing. But this...there comes a time when you have to stand by your principles or else you can't claim to have any. And this might be it."

Cinderella sighed with relief. She hadn't realised that she was worried about what Eugene might say until there was nothing to worry about any more. "I'm glad, so glad. I don't know if I could have looked at Philippe the same way again if I'd thrown the chance to protect children like him aside."

"I know what you mean," Eugene said. "We continue then?"

"Yes. And if some don't like it-"

"We'll manage without them, I'm sure," Eugene said. Cinderella didn't know if his confidence was genuine or not, but either way it comforted her.

Shortly thereafter, Eugene and Cinderella made their way to the ballroom, where the doors were flung open for them to enter.

"Their Royal Highnesses!"

* * *

"Niece."

"Uncle," Christine replied, curtsying.

Lord Roux held out one hand to her. "Will you do me the honour?"

"Of course, uncle, I would be delighted." Christine said, slipping her hand into his open palm and letting him take her in hold. He did not hold her close, of course - there was such a thing as propriety - but well enough that they could step through the dance without difficulty.

"How are my cousins?" Christine asked. "How is Aunt Amelia?"

"Comfortable and content," Lord Roux replied. "As for my daughters, they will be of an age to marry soon, the bane of any father's life."

Christine laughed prettily.

"You laugh, my dear, but your father feels the weight of it as much as I do."

"So much so that he sent me here as the next best alternative to a convent," Christine said.

"He sent you here to advance the interests of our family and the party," Lord Roux said gravely. "I trust that your efforts in that regard have not been unsuccessful."

"Uncle, you are the premier of the nation, what more could you possibly want?" Christine asked. "Speaking of which I must say that your timing could have been better. Factory reform? Really?"

"It is a necessary measure."

"It is a divisive measure," Christine said, as she and her uncle twirled in the centre of the ballroom. "Especially at such a time. You know this will cost the princess much-needed support."

"Only if she supports the measure."

"Which she will," Christine declared. "She is too righteous to do other than the right thing."

"Then that is her choice, and the choice of her husband."

Christine's eyes narrowed. "Uncle...you do mean to support their highnesses against this nonsense of the Duke, don't you?"

Lord Roux did not meet her gaze but rather looked over her head. "If it becomes in my interest and the interest of the party to do so then I will, after careful deliberation, come down upon the side of their highnesses. It strikes me that we have not yet come to such a place."

"Uncle!" Christine hissed. "How can you say such a thing. We're talking about unprecedented-"

"Everything was unprecedented once."

"Self-serving-"

"Even those who serve themselves may serve others unwittingly."

"Why?" Christine demanded. "Why, Uncle, answer me that?"

Lord Roux's expression was impassive; his face was almost devoid of real expression like a stone wall or a dead fish. "Because it may well be in the nation's best interest to have a queen who talks less than, on the basis of the evidence, Princess Cinderella would."

"A queen who..." Christine fell silent. She was rendered utterly speechless, which did not happen very often. Her throat was so choked with jostling words that none could struggle forth to escape her mouth but remained so jammed up in her windpipe that it was a miracle she could breathe through them. "Uncle, if I were a less perfect lady I fear I might be tempted to slap you. We have been gifted a golden opportunity and you will cast it aside because a hypothetical Queen Anne would be seen and not heard?"

"One year of marriage, Christine," Lord Roux replied as they danced. "One year of marriage and we have had scandal on top of disorder."

"Scandals that were wholly false and disorders that were inflicted on the princess from without, by those opposed to her," Christine replied.

"You are her partisan now?"

"Call me her partisan then call yourself her enemy."

"I will do no such thing," Lord Roux said. "But you must realise what she really is. She meddles in the affairs of government, which might be tolerable if she were foursquare on our side but she is not so partisan."

"She isn't supposed to be partisan," Christine replied. "But she is just, and being just she is for the most part liberal. Uncle, can you not look past the fact that she is a woman with opinions for one moment and see what an opportunity we have before us: a liberal queen sitting at the right hand of a king whom she has brought to liberalism. When was the last time we had a truly liberal monarch? When was the last time the monarchy was on our side?"

"Liberal princes become conservative kings when they no longer have a father to rebel against," Lord Roux said. "We have been disappointed before."

"Cinderella's politics come not from rebellion but from conscience, and she leads Prince Eugene to greater conscientiousness as well," Christine said. "She will not turn, and so long as he loves her nor will he and he does love her, uncle; though her highness grows heavy with children I have not seen him so much as glance at another woman, it is still her bed he chooses to lie in every night. Please, Uncle, trust me; Princess Cinderella is our horse to back."

"The world you conjure would be a beautiful one," Lord Roux said. "If I could believe in it."

"Isn't it a chance worth taking even if you don't believe me?" Christine snapped. "The Duke of Cornouaille would be an ultra-conservative, you have to realise that. If he became king he would either provoke a revolution or set our politics back fifty years." She scowled. "If you wish to stand above the fray then so be it but please, please tell me that you aren't going to whip this."

"What do you want, Christine?"

"I want you to take the part of the prince and princess but failing that I'll settle for you doing nothing while I canvas on their behalf amongst our party."

"You would be her election agent?"

"I would work for the common good of Armorique; I am a Roux, that is my duty and my right."

Lord Roux shook his head. "So often you sound like you were born into the wrong party," he murmured. "Very well. Do as you will, and as your loving uncle I wish you good fortune in all your endeavours."

"And as your devoted niece I thank you for your blessing," Christine replied. It was not all that she had wanted, but it was something she could work with.

Now she had to get to work.

* * *

"Father," Augustina said, as she slipped her hand into her father's grasp. "I need you to introduce me to Lord Georges."

General du Bois was a man growing old in the middle of his years, his hair and beard turned prematurely grey and going white. Despite that he still possessed a fine martial figure, without any sign of strain upon his dress uniform. He regarded his daughter with an air of amusement, though his magnificent beard concealed his mouth from view he seemed - Augustina had learned to read the signs - to be smiling. His blue eye - he had lost the other in a duel when Augustina had been too young to remember what he looked like with two eyes - twinkled. "Lord Georges is a fine man, my dear, but a little old for you if I may say."

Augustina rolled her eyes. "I'm not asking you to introduce me as a potential suitor, father, I just want to talk to him."

"About what?" asked her father as they walked together, hand in hand, along the edge of the ballroom.

"What do you think, this business with the Duke and the princess and the royal marriage," Augustina murmured. "We have to stop it."

"There was a time you would have welcomed it."

"No, father, there was a time when I would have welcomed seeing the marriague annulled and Cinderella run out of town," Augustina replied calmly. "I would never have wanted to see tradition abused in such a way as his grace proposes."

"Perhaps," her father said. "But I doubt you would have bestirred yourself to defend the princess."

"No," Augustina acknowledged. "But you taught me to be willing to admit when I was wrong and I was wrong. As it will be wrong to let the Duke of Cornouaille have his way and rewrite the law to his own liking and for the benefit of his own issue."

"His grace is one of us, the same cannot be said for the princess."

"I believe that her highness is one of us in spirit."

"Her attitude to the grain levy might suggest otherwise."

Augustina cringed. "Yes, that was...quite something wasn't it? But if you could only understand why she did it. Yes, she tried diligently to plough her way through _The Wealth of Nations_ even when it was making her cross-eyed, but she wasn't acting in obedience to doctrinaire economic ideology, she was looking for arguments to bolster what she already beleived to be right for the people. She's a paternalist at heart, one of us, and I can convince her to see that. Please, father, trust me. And introduce me to Lord Georges."

Her father looked at her a moment. "Are you sure that this is what you want?" he asked. "To tie your fortunes to this woman? To bind our fortunes to her?"

"You didn't only teach me to admit when I was wrong," Augustina said. "But also to stand up for what I thought was right."

Her father smiled, or at least she thought he did. "I'm very proud of you, Augustina. You've grown up."

"I'm not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult."

Her father laughed, and led her to where Lord Georges was standing on the edge of the ballroom, watching the dancing but not partaking in it. His attire was black, save for the red silk scarf wore prominently around his neck. Apparently he wore a knew one every day.

Although technically Sieur Robert Danjou remained the leader of His Majesty's Loyal Opposition, in practice the vast majority of the Conservative deputies now looked to this man for leadership, Augustina's own father amongst them. Augustina herself had never met him before, although she knew him somewhat by reputation: a failed soldier but a king of the turf, a man no one had expected to amount to anything in politics, not said to be a great speaker but a man, so it was said, of great integrity. And a scion of one of Armorique's oldest famillies. A man to whom other men would listen.

A man whom, if she could win him over, would be a great ally for Cinderella in her cause.

"My lord," General du Bois declared. "May I introduce to you my daughter, Augustina."

Augustina curtsied. "My lord."

Lord Georges bowed. "Mademoiselle."

"I was very sorry to hear that you had sold all of your racehorses, my lord," Augustina said. "Especially with Silver Blaze expected to win the King's Cup this year."

"I am sure he will, under his new owner," Lord Georges said, sounding like a man trying to seem less upset than he really is. "But I have vowed to dedicate myself wholly to the reintroduction of the tariffs, and I cannot admit of any distractions to that great endeavour."

Augustina's heart sank just a little. _With an attitude like that we may be done before I've even gotten started._ "I see," she murmured. "I, um, I wondered if I might have a word with you, my lord."

"Of course, mademoiselle," he said, as he plucked a sherry off a silver tray held by a passing waiter. "Would you care for a glass?"

"Thank you, my lord," Augustina said, taking the drink and sipping from the small glass.

"I'll leave you to it," her father muttered to her, making his exit.

"I hear that you are in service to the princess," Lord Georges observed. "For however long she remains a princess."

"Many years, if I have anything to say about it," Augustina declared. "Which is why I wished to have a word with you, my lord. I hoped that you might at least consider throwing your influence behind her highness. With the Conservative Party behind her this scheme of His Grace will surely falter at the first fence."

"I fear, mademoiselle, you overstate my influence."

"I believe if anything I understate it, my lord," Augustina said. "Everyone knows that Sieur Robert would never have been brought down without you."

"D'Israeli did all of the talking."

"No one would have followed D'Israeli, a man of no birth sprung out of nowhere, an ambitious mountebank," Augustina said. "But you, my lord, a man of integrity, a king of the turf, a great lord of the realm, you are a man that men will follow."

"Perhaps," Lord Georges said, sounding less like he was trying to be modest and more as though he genuinely had a hard time believing it. "But why should I lead them in defence of our enemy? The woman who sold us all like barleycorn sacks?"

"It was Sieur Robert who broke faith with us, the princess promised nothing."

"It was her highness who encouraged Sieur Robert in his betrayal," Lord Georges replied. "His Grace may be sympathetic to a reintroduction of the tariffs."

"Are we about no more than the price of grain, my lord?" Augustina asked. "Is that what our great party has sunk to: nothing more than a barley merchant's talking shop? Where we not once the party of the Crown and the Church, of all the blessed institutions of our land? The party of the country and the land and of fatherly concern for the little people and their condition?"

Lord Georges tugged on one of his magnificent sideburns. "I would not say that we have ceased to be those things, Mademoiselle."

"If we are Conservatives then what are we conserving?" Augustina said. "What do we even wish to conserve? The perogatives of the crown provided they are not exercised? The holy sacrament of marriage until it becomes inconvenient for us? The institutions of the realm unless we have to damage them in order to hurt somebody we don't like? My lord, you are said to be a man of true integrity. You single-handedly cleaned all corruption and vice from the racing scene, no matter who you had to expose as a fraud in the process. I'm asking you to show that same integrity, now, here. You know that the prince and princess are in the right, everyone with a half-shilling of sense knows that. You are said to be a man of true integrity, my lord; please don't throw that reputation away now by handing the crown and kingdom over to an unprincipled oaf just because he might do you a good turn."

Lord Georges stared at her for a moment. "You chide me very well, mademoiselle, I have always striven to behave with honour in my life. There is...much force in what you say. I will think on it, I swear."

Augustina curtsied. "Thank you, my lord. That is all I can ask."

* * *

Cinderella was pleased to admit that things could have been a lot worse.

It was true that the ballroom was rather less full than it had been on previous grand occasions, and it seemed that many people had stayed away because they did not or would never support her and Eugene. But that only meant that the people who had come were either sympathetic or receptive, and so Cinderella wasn't inclined to object to the fact that her most implacable enemies had decided to stay at home. One or two people had referred to her as 'Madame', but by and large it appeared that those who disliked her the most had better things to do than come here specifically to spite her, for which Cinderella was very thankful. No mocking whispers seemed to follow her, and as she and Eugene worked the room there was a pleasant dearth of mocking remarks to her face, either snide or openly hostile. Having been on the receiving end of all sorts of barbs and insults in the past, Cinderella couldn't say she wasn't glad to be free of them tonight.

It was still a bit of a disappointment that they had to spend their anniversary celebration glad-handing and politicking and working the room like this - although Cinderella had to admit to herself that she probably would have been too tired for much dancing in any case - but it was not nearly as unpleasant an experience as she had feared it would be.

Which wasn't to say that there weren't a few strange or rather bizarre moments that made Cinderella wonder just what people had been hearing about her, or induced a sort of mild despair in her as to the kind of things that people were willing to believe. Somewhat early in the evening, when Cinderella and Eugene had been briefly separated as Eugene was drawn off by one or two officers, Cinderella had noticed one young lady in a gown of gold looking at her but, at the same time, trying not to seem that she was looking at her. She kept staring at Cinderella for a few moments, and then looking away for a little bit, and then looking at Cinderella again.

Cinderella approached her. "Can I help you, mademoiselle?"

The young lady squeaked in alarm, and looked as though she might like nothing more than to flee.

Cinderella smiled, and spoke softly to put the girl at her ease. "I don't believe that we've been introduced. I'm Princess Cinderella, and you are?"

The young lady's eyes went everywhere but at Cinderella. "Avelina, your highness." She glanced at Cinderella, then looked away, then leaned forwards a little to whisper conspiratorially. "Is it true that you have a dungeon?"

Cinderella took a step back. "I...a dungeon?"

Avelina nodded eagerly. She seemed more comfortable now, almost enthusiastic. "They say that Prince Eugene is...abnormal, although I don't know what that means and Papa says I'm too young to understand. But they say that you've cured him of this abnormality with practices you learned in a brothel. They say that dungeons are involved." Avelina was smiling now. "I must say it all sounds very exciting!"

For a moment, Cinderella wondered if Avelina was mocking her. But she seemed so genuinely enthusiastic, and lacking in the slightly cloying insincerity that most strangers used when they wanted to laugh at her without actually appearing to do so. It seemed that this girl genuinely believed in this nonsense, and that far from finding it a reason to disdain Cinderella she actually found it fascinating.

Cinderella couldn't say that she felt the same way about it. "No, Mademoiselle, I don't have a dungeon and I've never so much as set foot in a brothel in my life. I'm sorry to disappoint you but the only hold that I have over Eugene is the love we share."

"Oh," Avelina said as her face fell. "That is a little disappointing. Still, does that mean that you're not planning to kill us all, because that's the other thing they say about you."

Cinderella blinked. "What, exactly do they say if you don't mind me asking?"

"That you're going to raise a mob and burn down all our houses and devour us alive," Avelina said brightly. "Well, perhaps not devour us, I might not be remembering quite right; but it's something like that certainly! Although, I must say you don't act like that kind of ogre at all."

"Probably because I'm not actually planning to raise a mob to do anything, mademoiselle," Cinderella said. "I help the people where I can but they don't answer to me. They've helped me in the past but they aren't my private army." She paused. "May I ask who has been telling you all of these things about me, Mademoiselle?"

"Oh, you know, they say them."

"But who is they?"

Avelina hesitated. "Um, well...I don't know really. I overheard Papa talking about it, but the person he was talking to just said that it was something they said, so he must have heard it from somebody else, and I don't know where they heard it from, and other people have heard about it too but only from hearing it from people who heard about it so...it's just something they say, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is," Cinderella murmured. Clearly these were the rumours that the Duke of Cornouaille or his wife had started about her - the latter statement about her plans for the mob sounded rather similar to what her grace had accused Cinderella of when she visited - but she couldn't prove it or tell who believed it. It sounded ridiculous - a brothel, really? The idea that she had a dark hold over Eugene sprung from his 'abnormality'? - but it appeared that there were people impressionable enough to believe it.

She talked with Avelina a little longer, gently explaining to her that there was nothing to any of these rumours, and that they had been wholly invented by their originator.

"You know, you're a little more boring than you're made out to be, your highness," Avelina said, as she took her leave. "But you're really rather nice at the same time. I'm glad I met you."

"Likewise, mademoiselle," Cinderella said. "Have a good evening."

"You too. Happy anniversary, your highness."

"Thank you."

Eugene returned at that moment, putting one arm around Cinderella's waist. "A new friend?"

"Perhaps," Cinderella said softly. "It was certainly an enlightening conversation."

She told Eugene what she had learned about the way that certain people - certain somewhat suggestible-seeming people, it had to be said - were beginning to view their relationship. Eugene couldn't contain the roll of his eyes.

"Oh, for heavens' sake," he snapped. "Abnormal? Really? Do they have to sink so low?"

"I'm sorry," Cinderella said. "But I thought you ought to know."

"Yes, you're right," Eugene replied. "It doesn't mean that I don't to wring that man's neck though."

Cinderella couldn't help but giggle. She raised one hand to cover her mouth.

"What?" Eugene asked.

"Well, it's nothing really," Cinderella said. "But I have to say, but of the rumours that could be spread about us...I'd much rather people think that I have some kind of mysterious hold over you than think that I'm having an affair or three with Jean or Lucien or any complete stranger I might meet."

"Because the former makes you sound enigmatic and powerful," Eugene suggested with wry amusement in his voice.

Cinderella laughed. "No," she said. "Because at least it acknowledges that you're the one for me. The only one I want."

Eugene snorted. "Yes, we must look on the bright side, I suppose."

Together they made their way around the room, speaking to as many people as they could. Sieur Robert was sympathetic but ultimately rather powerless.

"At present, your highnesses...to be frank and explicit very few people care for what I have to say any more. In fact I daresay that in some quarters my support would do you more harm than good. Nevertheless you have my sympathies. This is a very distasteful business all round."

Lord Roux said a great deal, but at the same time was quite hard for Cinderella to tell what he was actually saying. There was doubtless meaning amongst his words but she was not quite able to draw it out. Christine watched their conversation with a look on her face as though she was fulminating about something.

Many of the radical liberals whom Cinderella had met as part of the Anti-Corn Law League were present at the party, and Cinderella made sure to introduce Eugene to each and every one of them. Some were sympathetic, and if their sympathy seemed driven as much by dislike of Duke Henry and what were called his 'ultra tendencies' as by affection for Cinderella and Eugene they were prepared to take what they could get. Others, however, prepared to elide over the issue of the royal marriage and talk instead about the role of commerce as the lifeblood of the state and the necessity for commerce to flow unchecked by restriction or the regulation for the greater good and prosperity of the nation.

"They know something about the factory and they're trying to warn us off," Cinderella said to Eugene after the end of just one such discussion. "It's just as Christine said, they're letting us know where their priorities lie."

"It was always likely," Eugene said. "There's nothing to be done about it."

"No," Cinderella agreed. _At least nothing that we're willing to do._

Augustina introduced her to a man named Lord Georges who frostily conceded that she had the right on her side 'in this instance'. By the end of the evening they had not amassed a huge number of ringing endorsements, and more people had professed their sympathy than promised their backing, but they knew now where they were starting from and they were reassured that the whole country was not against them.

It could have been, Cinderella told herself, much worse.

"It's a start," Eugene said. "Not the best start, but a start nonetheless."

"Yes," Cinderella agreed. "So, where do we go from here?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Eugene said. "But for now, I think we deserve just a little time to ourselves on our anniversary night, don't you think?"

Cinderella smiled. "I think that sounds absolutely delightful."

Eugene drew her off, out of the ballroom and into the palace gardens where they walked, alone together, under the light of the silvery moon.


	25. In Shadows

In Shadows

Angelique knocked on the door of Augustina's room.

"Who is it?"

"It's Angelique."

There was a moment of silent pause on the other side of the door before Augustina's voice issued forth from. "Come in."

Angelique pushed the door open. The rooms of the ladies-in-waiting were not huge, certainly nothing to compare to Cinderella's spacious apartments, but that only made sense since they spent most of their in Cinderella's chambers anyway and their own rooms were mostly just for sleeping in. Nevertheless there was a little desk sat against the wall and it was at that desk that Augustina sat, wearing a dress of lilac and lavender. Judging by the book sitting on the table she had been reading when Angelique came in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Angelique said, as she leaned against the door frame.

Augustina shrugged. She plucked her pince-nez, which she wore for reading, off the bridge of her nose and set them down on the desk. "It's not as if I was doing something important. Did you need something?"

"I need you to help me write a letter," Angelique said. "You know more clever words than I do, and how to say things."

Augustina's eyebrows rose. "Yes, I suppose I do. Who is this letter to?"

"Everyone," Angelique said. "It's one of those open letters that gets in the newspaper."

Augustina leaned back in her wooden chair. She had her legs crossed, one over the other, and she wrapped her hands around her upraised knee. "You want to write an open letter to the newspapers?"

"Why not?" Angelique asked. She produced a copy of the [i]Daily Post[/i] out from behind her back. "His Grace the Duke certainly isn't shy about it." She tossed the paper at Augustina, who caught it with one hand.

"What's he saying now?" she asked, even as she set the paper down on her desk and reached for her spectacles.

"He as good as accuses Cinderella of being a Norman spy," Angelique growled. "He says that Princess Frederica is running her and through her the country. He takes a lot of words to say so but that's about the size of it."

Augustina murmured something indistinct and wordless as she put on her pince-nez. She started reading. "Yes, I see what you mean. But I'm afraid that I can't see a reply, public or otherwise, doing much good. You could assert that Cinderella isn't a spy or foreign agent but at the end of the day you can't prove a negative. You could point out that His Grace has no proof but I'm not sure that would be interesting enough even for the _Gazette_ to publish it."

"Good thing that's not what I want to write about then," Angelique said.

Augustina looked at her from over the top of her reading glasses.

Angelique stood up straight and stopped slouching against the doorframe. "Do you know where Cinderella is this morning?"

Augustina replied at once. "She's down at the docks launching the new warship, the _Princess."_

Angelique nodded. "And when she gets back from that...well there's a Privy Council meeting at the end of the week so she'll probably work on that as soon as she gets back. The day after tomorrow she's going to down at the new veterans' hospital funded through her foundation, opening the new wing and looking in on the patients, that sort of thing. And you know she's been invited to go round a factory this week by people who want to prove that they don't need any laws to make them behave themselves because everything is just perfect the way it is. And some fellows from a Trade Union have been trying to get an appointment to bend her ear, and all this from a woman three months pregnant! I just...Cinderella works so hard for this country I feel as though somebody ought to point that out and ask this duke what he's ever done for Armorique. Does that make sense?"

Augustina nodded. "Yes, it does actually. It might even get in the paper. A robust defence of a popular favourite combined with a blast of accusation at his grace, yes, it could do well."

"Then you'll help me?"

"I will," Augustina replied. She tilted her a little to one side. "You know, I think you may have hit upon something more than you realise."

Angelique blinked. "That's nice I suppose. What was it?"

"His Grace has, thus far, focussed entirely upon the unworthiness of Cinderella for the throne, and more generally upon the unfitness of the senior branch of the royal family. What he hasn't done - what, as far as I'm aware, he hasn't even tried to do at least not publicly - is set out his aims or objectives if he became king. He's let the whole world know he wants the throne but he's given no indication of what he'd do with the throne once he had it."

"You say that as though it's a mistake," Christine said, as she glided out from around the corner to stand behind Angelique. "Pardon me, I couldn't help but overhear."

"I'd invited you in, Lady Christine, but I fear there isn't room for three," Augustina replied.

"Well, no one else is using the princess' sitting room at present, perhaps we could repair there and have this discussion in a slightly greater degree of comfort?" Christine suggested.

Augustina glanced at Angelique, who nodded. Augustina rose, and the three of them began to climb the stairs up to Cinderella's chambers.

"As I was saying," Christine said as they climbed. "His Grace benefits from the constructive ambiguity of his position. By defining himself strictly by what he is against - her highness, and more generally the current royal regime - he can appear all things to all men, and all who oppose the princess may imagine him to be of their party. It's actually rather masterful of him. Her highness, on the other hand, has the disadvantage of being a known quantity."

"Are you so sure about that, my lady?" Angelique asked as the three of then entered Cinderella's bedroom.

Christine turned to look at her. "You disagree, Lady Bonnet?"

Angelique said, "Considering that you two both think Cinderella is one of you and on your side I'd say Cinderella enjoys some...what was that, constructive ambiguity? I'd say that works for her as well."

Augustina and Christine looked at one another over Angelique's head.

"Somehow I suspect that we could argue on this point all day and not budge an inch from where we are now," Augustina said. "So shall we put the obvious question to one side for a moment?"

Christine nodded, and turned away to lead them into the sitting room. "While you may have an excellent point, Lady Bonnet, nevertheless his grace is a far greater beneficiary than her highness. None can deny the ground on which she stands even though we may contest the ownership of it. That is why her decision to stand behind these factory welfare measures - to toughen them even - is so misguided, it will cost her."

"I suspect that not doing what she knows to be right would cost her even more, if in a different way," Augustina said as she settled down into a padded armchair. "How much did you hear, Lady Christine, about Angelique's plans?"

"Enough," Christine said. "Even if such a letter would not change minds it remains worth attempting."

"And what about Augustina's point?" Angelique asked. "Is there any point mentioning that he doesn't say what he'd do as king if his silence is the whole point."

"I would say so," Christine said. "By pointing it out we may cause some people to wonder what he stands for, and whether he stands for the same things that they do. At best we may force him to clarify his position, with all the potentially alienating consequences that implies."

"Well then," Augustina murmured. "Shall we get to work?"

* * *

Henry flung the _Gazette_ angrily into the fire. "Accuse me? Accuse me! Idleness they say, the cursed insolence of it! To accuse me of idleness and hold that woman up as an exemplar of energy and vigour.

Anne sat in an armchair near the fire and held her peace. The words that so vexed her husband had been written by Lady Christine Roux, and in the open letter she castigated her husband lacking both bodily and intellectual vigour, contrasting both with Cinderella's service to the state and with her thoughts on improving the condition of the people. Why even now, Lady Christine claimed, Cinderella was working to improve conditions for children in Armorique's mills and factories.

Anne didn't know if that was true or not, but she suspected that not everyone would be happy to learn that. Certainly mill and factory owners would not. There was an opportunity there, if only she could bring her husband out of his wrath and lead him gently to the point where he could see it.

"What lunacy is this?" Henry muttered, as he turned away from the fireplace and began to pace up and down the lavishly appointed sitting room. "To laud her as though it were natural and proper for her sort to have ideas, to praise her energy as tough she does not take too much upon herself and interfere too often!"

Anne did not know, and did not ask, whether when Henry referred to Cinderella's 'sort' he meant women or the common born. It could have been either one, honestly. She closed her book and placed it in her lap as she looked up at him, following his movements with her eyes.

"And to call me idle!" Henry snapped. "The insolent audacity of it!"

Anne said nothing. Certainly she did not say that - whatever one thought of Cinderella's ideas or of the idea that she worked hard in service to the state - it was undeniable that Henry did nothing of the sort. He did nothing, in point of fact. There was no necessity, as there had been no call, for him to do anything; her husband enjoyed an enviable social position, with an income more than sufficient to his needs, and so he did nothing but brood upon the injustice of having been born the son of a younger son, doomed to sink lower and lower down the line of succession.

In fairness, Anne would have to admit that she did not do anything either, although it was difficult to think of anything that Henry would allow her to do in any event. But she would, if she could. Not politics, she would not voluntarily choose Cinderella's path much though she might envy the success the other woman had already had in walking it. No, if Anne had her choice it would be back to Italy, to Greece, to Egypt and the Levant and anywhere the bones of lost but not forgotten empires jutted out of the earth. Not to sun herself in villas, nor merely amuse with collecting antiquities but to explore, to learn, to ferret out the secrets of these ancient peoples and their glories. That was what she would do, if she had the freedom and could like a dove fly whither she pleased without restraint.

But she was not free. She was the Duchess of Cornouaille, wife to the Duke of Cornouaille, and she had not been free since her father and her husband's father had sealed the marriage contract that would sell her to Henry in exchange for enough money to pay off her father's debts and keep her parents in the style to which they had become accustomed. And so she was bound to her husband's hopes and dreams and his ambitions, and all she could do was ensure that they did not, could not harm the children.

Henry's thoughts were dark and bloody. He thought only of the simplest route to securing his succession: the death of the princess and her unborn children. But, just as he was too narrow-minded to consider any alternative, equally he was too conventional in thought to kill the princess in such a way as would allow him to escape detection. His fantasies of taking her - without or without Eugene - upon the road would see him dead most likely. One day she had found him in the library reading up on poisons and, upon asking, she had found out that he planned to invite Cinderella to dinner and then poison her while she was under their roof as though that wouldn't make them the obvious culprits. Not only was he blase to the risks to himself but to their children also. That was why Anne had suggested this approach; it was no treason what they did now, they were committing no crime and could be accused of nothing. And nothing could be done to their children. Her darling angels were safe and sound, and would remain so.

"This isn't working," Henry snapped at her. "It's taking too long!"

"I never said it would be quick," Anne said softly. "We must be patient-"

"I have no time for patience!" Henry yelled.

"That woman is hanging herself," Anne said, continuing to keep her voice soft. "The more she acts the more she will alienate sections of society, the more support will flow, faute de mieux, to you. Please, my love, have patience and be calm. Be calm and all that you sought and your father desired before you will be yours, to pass on to your son."

"Death would be swifter."

"This is safer by far," Anne replied. "Please, Henry, think what would befall your children if you were to be caught or slain. Think what would become of us without you."

Henry turned away with a snort, and strode out of the room. He left no sign of whether he agreed with Anne's counsel or rejected it. And all she could do was pray that he did nothing foolish.

* * *

As the carriage clattered down the street, Cinderella wrapped her hands around Eugene's arm. She could feel his muscles through his uniform jacket. She laid her head upon his shoulder. "Thank you for coming with me."

"They are my men, or were," Eugene said. "How could I stay away?"

Cinderella murmured a wordless acknowledgement of his point. "All the same, thank you. Would you mind if I closed my eyes for just a moment?"

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Eugene asked. "You don't have to."

Cinderella smiled. "Actually, since it's the Princess' Fund, not the Prince's Fund, I think I probably do," she said. "I'll be fine, I just want to rest my eyes for a moment before we get there."

"If you're certain," Eugene said softly.

Cinderella closed her eyes, plunging herself into darkness as Eugene and Marinette disappeared from around her. There was only the darkness and the sounds of the coach as it rolled along. That and the occasional noises from outside the coach.

"Gods bless you, your royal highnesses!"

"Stand with the princess!"

Cinderella's eyes fluttered open as she began to lean towards the carriage window.

"I thought you were resting your eyes?" Eugene asked with some amusement in his voice.

"I have to acknowledge them," Cinderella said. "Or they'll think I'm very rude."

"No, they'll think your pregnant and tired and they'll make allowances," Eugene said. "It's alright to let a few cheers pass without comment."

Cinderella smiled wryly. "How does it feel, Marinette, to know that you have all of this to look forward to."

Marinette's cheeks reddened and she looked down, even as a kind of smile spread across her face. "I'm afraid that your highnesses have quite spoiled me for love and marriage. I see the way that you two are together and I can't imagine finding anyone who would love me the way that you two love each other."

"Oh, why would you say that, Marinette?" Cinderella asked.

Marinette's hands clenched on her lap. "Well, I know that I'm not as beautiful as you or as kind as you or as...anything as you; I know that no one could love me the way that his highness loves you because I'm just not as loveable as you are, but that doesn't mean that I wouldn't find it hard to settle for-"

"Marinette, stop," Cinderella said. "Just stop, please." She let go of Eugene's arms, and reached out across the carriage to take Marinette's arms within her own palms. "You are a perfectly sweet and lovely girl whom anyone would be very lucky to call his wife. I know that you'll be perfectly happy with someone someday, so long as that's what you want." She smiled. "Although that doesn't mean I won't be sad when the day comes and we have to say goodbye."

The carriage bore them to the veterans' hospital; it was not an especially built place, the need for somewhere to care for the poor men who had made such sacrifices for Armorique to wait for such a place to be erected - although such a place was being built on the outskirts of the city, even now, though Cinderella prayed the extra capacity would not be necessary - rather it had once been the city arsenal, the store of shot and powder and cannonballs, although it had not served such a purpose for many years: the munitions were stored elsewhere now. Refurbishment had been, and was, necessary to turn it into a place fit for human habitation and the care of the sick, but much work had been done already and many wounded soldiers were already cared for here.

Appropriate to its beginnings as an arsenal, the hospital looked more like a fortress than a temple of healing. If there was one thing that made it unsatisfactory in Cinderella's eyes it was how small and narrow the windows were, little better than slits in the solid stone walls; she was sure the men inside would like more natural light than the architecture allowed.

Still, the need had been urgent and there hadn't been a lot of choice at the time. Perhaps when the new, purpose-built hospital was completed those currently treated here could be moved there. It would depend, she supposed, on the demand.

She hoped with all her heart it did not grow. One war had been quite enough, and quite bad enough for everyone.

The doors were more like gates, large and looming like a great mouth opened wide to admit wagons carrying injured men to pass through. General Gerard was already outside the doors, with a line of constables keeping the crowd - of which a modest-sized one had gathered outside the hospital, along with a few reporters - a decent distance away from the gates. The crowd parted, with little need for Jean to wear out his voice caling for them to make way, and the carriage passed through beyond the line of constables, stopping before the gaping gates.

People - they could not all be gentlemen of the press - began to hurl questions at Eugene as he dismounted the carriage but he ignored them all, turning and holding out his arms to help Cinderella down. For her part, Cinderella stood in the doorway of the royal coach, with Eugene below her, looking out across the sea of faces gathered in front of her.

"Princess? Princess, what do you think is going to happen about your marriage? Do you have anything to say to-"

Cinderella raised her voice and hoped that it would carry across the crowd. "I'm not going to talk about that now, not here. That isn't why my husband and I are here. We're here for the brave heroes of Armorique, who have made such sacrifices for our country in America. And I think...I think that talking about anything else dishonours them, and shames us. Please, think of the poor men in here more than you think of us. And consider...please consider donating whatever you can afford to the Princess' Fund which works to support these men and this hospital. Anything you can spare will be welcome and it really does make a difference, I promise you. Thank you." She stepped down, feel Eugene's arms around her bulging waist as he helped her down safely to the ground.

"Well spoken," he said.

Cinderella exhaled out through her nose. "I just...it would have felt disrespectful to have talked about us, don't you think?"

"I know what you mean," Eugene said. "We shouldn't make everything about ourselves."

"I'm not sure it will make too much difference, the focus will probably be on you two anyway," Etienne declared as he dismounted his horse. "But any attention is welcome if it brings in more funding. Your highnesses, Marinette."

"Etienne," Eugene said. "Are you ready?"

"Are you?"

Eugene glanced at Cinderella, who nodded.

"Right then," Etienne said. "Let's get started."

The recently concluded war in America, the war that had secured for Armorique control over its American colonies - and led to the continuing difficulties over the island of Hispaniola and the fate of its landowners - had been the first major war fought by Armorique in the reign of the present king, and the number of men being shipped home with terrible wounds or even missing limbs was unlike anything that had been seen in many, many years. For the officers, matters were straightforward: they could retire into the bosoms of their wealthy families and be well cared-for by them. But for the ordinary men, the soldiers and sailors who had lost limbs or suffered bodily ruin for their country, there was nothing. So Cinderella had started a fund, the Princess' Fund, to raise money for the care and treatment of these men for as long as they should require it, contributing her own income - or rather the portion of that income annually set aside for her by Eugene - and encouraging donations from across the country. Said donations had, during the war, come mainly in small sums from the common people, although since the war ended there had been a slow but steady rise in the number of larger donations coming in. And those donations went to renovate and maintain this hospital, to build a second hospital, and to look after the wounded men who had nowhere else to turn to.

With Etienne as their guide Cinderella and Eugene were led through the hospital, seeing the new wing that had just opened and walking through the wards that were already service. They talked with those of the doctors and nurses who could spare a moment to have a word with them, as well as with those of the patients who were up to speaking.

"Is there anything that you need, anything that we can do to help?" Cinderella asked one of the senior doctors.

The doctor shook his head. "At present, your highness, we can treat and care for the men as best we could; the real difficulty is that so many of them have nowhere to go from here."

The men slept in long wards, with wooden screens separating the beds from one another and allowing them a degree of privacy. Their lives were not without comfort but they did seem dull, without much for these poor men to do at all. She asked them what could be done about that, but she recieved as many different answers as she asked different people.

It was not perfect, but then nothing about the situation of these men was, and everyone involved was clearly trying their best. It was just such a pity, after all that they had done for Armorique, that there was not more that Armorique could do for them.

"Is there anything that we can do?" Cinderella asked Eugene as they left the hospital, their visit concluded.

"I can't see what," Eugene said. "We can't force people to employ them, or buy them all homes or...I just don't see an easy solution."

 _No,_ Cinderella thought. _Nor even a hard one._

Cinderella and Eugene emerged from the hospital to find the crowd outside in a state of agitation and disorder, as confused murmurings ran through the mass of people without. At the centre of it seemed to be a man pinioned between a pair of constables, with Jean standing in front of him growling something that Cinderella couldn't quite hear as she and Eugene and Etienne emerged from out of the great gaping hospital doors.

"Jean?" Cinderella asked. "What's going on?"

Jean glanced over his shoulder at her, his expression grim, and seeming even more grim because of the scars on that side of his face. "I'm afraid this man meant harm to your highnesses. We caught him trying to force his way to the front of the crowd, and he had this." He turned, revealing a pistol in his hand.

"It isn't loaded," the man protested. "I-"

Jean fired the pistol in the air with a loud bang that made nearby onlookers flinch. "Now it isn't loaded," he snapped.

Eugene stepped protectively in front of Cinderella as Etienne strode towards the prisoner.

"Why?" Etienne demanded. "Who are you?"

"The duke deserves the government!" the man declared, as shocked murmurs ran through the crowd to greet his pronouncement, and gentlemen of the press scribbled away. "The false princess will-"

Jean hit him, knocking him out cold with a single punch. The man's head lolled forwards and his body slumped in the grip of the constables.

"Forgive me sir," Jean muttered. "Your highnesses. Perhaps I was too harsh."

"I think he said the most useful thing he could have told us up front," Etienne replied. He sounded more amused with Jean than annoyed. "You men, take him away."

"Yes, sir."

Cinderella took a deep breath. She did not feel so afraid, so terrified, as she had done at other times when people had tried to kill her. She didn't feel as though was about to faint, her whole body wasn't trembling. She supposed it was because this man hadn't actually gotten the chance to try and...take her life. Jean had stopped him before he could so much as draw his pistol on her. All the same...the duke. Would he really try to kill her, to kill her children? Did he really hate her that much, want the throne that much? Would he really stoop so low?

She noticed that Eugene's hands had clenched into fists by his sides.

"Eugene?" she murmured.

He turned to her. His face was red with fury, so much so that Cinderella instinctively took a step back as though the anger were meant for her. He must have seen it, for his expression softened a little as he reached for her. "Cinderella, please. You know it isn't you."

"I know," she said softly, as she allowed him to take her hands. "I just...habit, I suppose."

Eugene nodded. His face was still red, his jaw still clenched, he looked as though he were barely restraining himself from some explosive rage. "Come," he said, and it sounded like an effort for him to speak softly to her. "Let's get you home. Lieutenant Taurillion!"

"Highness?"

"The princess and I are returning to the palace," Eugene said, as he guided Cinderella towards the coach. "I want you to gather men, go to the house of the Duke Cornouaille and arrest him for treason and attempted murder."

"At once, your highness," Jean declared.

"Oh, and Taurillion?"

"Yes, your highness?"

"Well done for stopping him before he could act this time."

Jean's lip twitched upwards in a hint of a smile. "My pleasure, your highnesses."

* * *

Frederica sat back and permitted herself a modest smirk of subdued triumph as she read the news of the Duke's arrest for purposing the death of the prince and princess.

He would not remain in the dungeon for long, of course; there was not enough evidence even to hold a man of his wealth and influence, still less to convict him in a court of law. The word of one man was not enough. But the scandal would stick to him, the whispers of 'traitor, murderer' would follow him all his days and if God was just this would kill any support for the idea of destroying Cinderella's marriage for good. Now that the true venality of the Duke's ambition had been exposed, now that he had shown the world just how far he was willing to go, who could stand behind a man like that?

That was why she had arranged for the gunman.

It was become a little stereotypical of her, these intentionally failed death attempts, but she had taken greater than usual care with this one. She hadn't used any fool of the streets, no impressionable would-be regicide. Rather, the man currentl cooling his heels in the gatehouse - Frederica was paying a large sum of money (through unidentifiable proxies obviously) for the warden to let him 'escape' tonight - was one of her trusted agents, a good man who would stick to his story and not reveal a word of Frederica's involvement.

She had taken similar care in ensuring that no harm would actually befall Cinderella. Frederica had been clear in her instructions: he was not to shoot at her, for she wasn't sure what harm the shock and terror of the attempt might do to the unborn babies. Rather he was to muscle his way to the front of the crowd, and make it obvious that he was doing so, and display for all to see that he had a pistol.

Frederica had trusted in Jean Taurillion to spot the gun and he had. She did like it when her judgements of men were vindicated by events.

She would get no credit, of course, for saving Cinderella's crown and marriage. But honestly, that was the way she preferred it. Cinderella's place was in the sun, Frederica's place was in the shadows.

In the shadows, keeping Cinderella safe.

Even if it didn't necessarily seem that way from what she did.

* * *

The night air was cool and crisp as Anne, her body concealed beneath a dark cloak with the hood raised up, made her way across the nearly-empty park and climbed into the waiting carriage.

"Your Grace," Lady Tremaine said calmly. "I apologise for the manner of our meeting, but we neither of us enjoy the sort of reputations that would allow us to meet openly."

Anne threw back her hood as she sat down opposite the lady and her daughters. "Lady Tremaine, mademoiselles; I was curious to recieve your invitation."

"You appear to be having a little trouble with the princess, your grace," Lady Tremaine said. "My daughter Drizella has some information that could prove very helpful to you."

"With respect, my lady, unless this information can free my husband and restore his reputation I see little advantage in it."

"It may do that, and perhaps more," Lady Tremaine replied.

Anne was silent for a moment. "Indeed, my lady? Then what would you ask in return for this splendid gift?"

"Unfortunately, the finances of our family are much reduced from their height," Lady Tremaine replied. "Her highness, cruel though she is, for a time consented to the sum of three hundred pounds a year but as of late-"

"If this information is good I will give you five," Anne said. "You have my word."

Lady Tremaine nodded as a rather ugly smile spread across her features. "Your gratitude is greatly appreciated, your grace. Now, Drizella, tell her everything."


	26. Rumour and Counter-Rumour

Rumour and Counter-Rumour

 _Perhaps I have the right to say that I won't let you ruin my life any more. Any of you._

 _That worked out well, didn't it?_

Cinderella looked down at the _Post_ in front of her, and at the story contained within.

For a day or so it had seemed that they might be over the worst of their troubles regarding the duke and the marriage: although he had been released from custody due to lack of evidence against him, the fact that someone had tried to kill Eugene – and Cinderella herself – had been all over the news and no one seemed able to find a good word to say about him in the light of it. It had appeared, Cinderella had been able to believe, that his rash action would case his schemes to whither and die from a lack of support.

There was still the worry that he would try again to put their lives under threat but Eugene assured her that there were men watching His Grace and the house, and that if he attempted any further plots then they would know about it.

But now it was hard to feel so hopeful that they had reached an end of things.

Drizella, it seemed, had decided to talk. A part of Cinderella wondered why she was even surprised any more.

"I'm sorry about this," she said miserably.

Although they were at the dining table for breakfast, Eugene had forsaken the protocol-dictated seat opposite Cinderella and taken the seat on her left instead. He had one arm around her, and he rubbed her right arm gently up and down and squeezed it reassuringly. "This isn't your fault."

"I let her go."

"We couldn't keep her a prisoner, we had no cause," Eugene said. "No cause we were willing to admit, at least."

Cinderella closed her eyes for a moment. "I try to be kind, to be generous, to be forgiving. Have courage and be kind, that's how I try to live, the way that…that my mother and father would have wanted. But why…why does it seem to…am I wrong? Am I being terribly foolish, ought I to-"

"No."

Cinderella opened her eyes and glanced at him. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I think I can guess," Eugene replied. "The fact that wicked people take advantage of your kindness doesn't make that kindness a fault and it doesn't make their wicked deeds your fault either." With his free hand he took hold of Cinderella's chin, and gently turned her face so that she was looking at him, into his devoted brown eyes. "If you lost that part of yourself, if you became hard or cold I don't know what I'd do."

Cinderella reached up and gently removed his hand from her chin. Her expression was as melancholy as her spirit in this moment. "Even when it happens so often? When does it stop being their wickedness and become my stupidity that I let this keep happening to me?"

Eugene stared at her in silence for a moment. "Cinderella…I'm afraid to say this but you will always have enemies. We will always have enemies. Because of who you are, because of what you are, because of who and what we are there will always be those who hate and despise us, and that would be true whether you are as sweet and gentle as you are or the most cruel and grasping, selfish woman who ever lived since Salome. The difference, I think, is that those who have saved you, have saved us both, wouldn't have done so for a cruel or selfish girl."

Cinderella's eyes glanced downwards. Eugene had a point there, if she thought about it for a moment. She had not…she didn't want to think that she had engendered the hostility of Serena, or Grace or even her stepfamily by anything that she had done – unless one counted the mere act of her existence, the very fact of her having the temerity to marry Eugene in spite of her lack of eligibility for such a marriage, as constituting a provocation to their malice; Cinderella would rather not do so – but she had, she hoped, engendered the love of her rescuers and protectors.

She had to believe that, or she was nothing but a fool and truly lost.

Cinderella looked away, back to the paper in front of them. "What are we going to do?" she asked.

Whoever Drizella had been talking to she had not told the truth, but it had to be admitted that she had told more of the truth than Eugene or Cinderella or anyone else connected with the palace had.

Not that that was saying much considering that Eugene had told a tissue of lies. Drizella was right in saying that Vanessa was dead, but everything was framed in such a way as to make Eugene, the King, Cinderella herself come out of it as badly as possible. And all of it framed in innuendo and suggestion, saying nothing directly but implying everything.

They – Cinderella didn't know whether Drizella had come up with her own creative interpretation of events or whether their graces had taken what she had told them and devised the interpretation that furthered their own cause best – said that Vanessa was dead (which she was, though not quite in the way they meant) at the hands of General Gerard, who had murdered her on the orders of Eugene and Cinderella when she became too much trouble for them to bear; they claimed that His Majesty's grief had been for her death; they had the audacity to claim that Drizella had been Cinderella's most trusted confidante but had departed her service when the princess' crimes grew too great for her to keep silent. It was slightly absurd, but that particular falsehood upset Cinderella possibly more than the rest.

Of Grace's villainy, Drizella's attempt to seduce Eugene, or even of the fact that Grace or Vanessa had influence the King to physically attack Cinderella nothing was said or suggested at all. Doubtless someone felt it might make them look a little sympathetic and not as ruthlessly evil as they liked.

Cinderella was afraid, she was very much afraid, that all the sympathy that had accrued to them after the botched assassination attempt – and the infamy that had descended upon the head of the duke – had been wiped out, if not reversed, by these revelations. After all, his grace still protested his innocence and this, unfortunately, made his protestations seem very credible.

 _If we were willing to kill an innocent girl we would certainly be willing to frame an innocent man._

 _What are we going to do?_

"In this instance I think we should say nothing," Eugene said. "Except perhaps to bluntly deny it."

"Really?" Cinderella asked, confused. Keeping silent in the face of ridiculous allegations had never worked for her, and in fact her ladies had always encouraged her to deny them publicly and get the truth out rather than letting this week's slander fester. "Because I've found that it's better to confront these things, otherwise people might think there's something in it."

"We've already told our story, back when it all happened and we had to explain it," Eugene said. "We don't need to repeat ourselves."

"But would it hurt?" Cinderella replied.

"It gives any questioners a second chance to pick holes in our account," Eugene pointed out. "If we just point out that we have given a full explanation of everything then we can dismiss this as the ill-informed, irresponsible and unfounded speculation that it is."

"Even though it's accurate."

"Oh, nothing is worse than ill-informed, irresponsible and unfounded speculation that happens to be accurate," Eugene said.

Cinderella glanced at him. He smiled just a little.

"Things aren't as bad as all that," Eugene said. "At the very worst we're back to square one, but even that might be an exaggeration. Not everyone will believe this, not by a long way."

Cinderella wanted to believe that, but experience had taught her that people were willing to believe quite a lot where she was concerned.

"Is there nothing else that we can do?"

"The only thing I think that we should do," Eugene said. "Is continue to show that we are better suited for the throne that he is or could be." He was silent for a moment. "But, if you want to address these rumours more directly, I won't stop you. Although I warn you, it may be an inquisitorial interview."

"Mmm," Cinderella murmured. "You're right, but I don't like the idea of just…saying nothing and letting people think that we have something to hide. Will you let me think about it?"

"Of course," Eugene said, leaning forward to kiss her on the temple. "Take as long as you need?"

"May…may I join you both?"

Cinderella gasped as she looked towards the door, one hand rising to her heart, her fingertips brushing against the pearls that dangled from around her neck.

His Majesty stood in the doorway with shoulders hunched a little, hands clasped behind his back. He looked abashed, hesitant, just as he had when he had approached her in the library.

He was looking at her, and not Eugene. It was her answer that he was waiting for.

A quick glance stolen behind confirmed that Eugene was waiting for her answer to.

 _I did tell him that I would try to be able to be in the same room as him._

Cinderella rose slowly to her feet, trying to ignore the trembling in her hands, and the desire to run, to hide, to get behind Eugene. She tried to ignore the fear that His Majesty had something clasped in his hidden hands, some weapon which he would turn on her. She tried to remember that this was a man whom she had loved once.

 _And then he beat me._

 _That wasn't his fault._

 _But he still did it._

Cinderella swallowed. This was…this was Eugene's father, and her king. She couldn't avoid him forever, and if she couldn't be around him then…then she would have to give up things that she did not want to give up.

She didn't know if they could ever find their way back to where they had been before, but she needed to find some way to get past the fear that she felt just being in his presence. For the sake of her children, she had to.

And so, though she could not smile at the sight of His Majesty, though she could put no joy or even enthusiasm in her voice, Cinderella managed to say, "Of course, your majesty, you would be very welcome."

The King sighed with relief. "Thank you, my dear. You cannot know how much that means to me."

He walked to the table. Cinderella flinched as he approached the seat at the head of the table, the seat next to her, and he must have noticed that for he did not take that seat but rather sat opposite Eugene instead, for all that required him to be one seat down from the head of the table in a position unbecoming of a king.

"Thank you," Cinderella whispered.

His Majesty did not respond, but the way he glanced at her confirmed that he had heard.

"You both look very preoccupied," he observed. "What so concerns you both?"

Eugene wordlessly handed him the paper.

The King read, his bushy white eyebrows rising as his face reddened until he flung the paper down upon the table hard enough to make it slam. Cinderella flinched at the loud noise, and a slight sound of dismay escaped her at his anger.

"THIS IS ABSOLUTE POPPY-" the King stopped, and looked at Cinderella. His face paled, or at least lost all its red of wrath. "I…I'm sorry, Cinderella, I will try…I won't let it get the best of me."

"Your Majesty," Cinderella murmured.

"I will not stand for this," the King said. "They cannot force me to sign any law altering a marriage I consented to and disinheriting my own grandchildren in favour of my nephew or anyone else for that matter."

"Perhaps not, but if all the realm were to demand it life could get very difficult for us all if you didn't," Eugene said. "That's why we have to fight, and not just rely upon your support, father."

The King muttered something indistinct. "And how is that going?"

"It was going better, until this," Eugene said. "As it is…we may have been set back a few paces. But I've never believed that it was insurmountable."

His Majesty nodded. "So what will you do?"

"Work," Eugene said. "And serve. And do the things that cousin Henry has never bothered to do. And build support, I hope."

"Um," Cinderella murmured. She struggled to raise her voice a little more in the King's presence. "Speaking of which, your majesty…it's about today's council meeting."

The King looked impatient, but he also didn't hurry her or snap at her to get on with or anything else. He waited, concealing his impatience as best he could.

"Eugene and I," Cinderella continued. "Might we have a word with you…about the factory law? We…we have a few ideas to…to amend it. To make it better."

"Of course," His Majesty said. "Come to my study before the meeting and we will discuss them."

"Thank you, your majesty."

"And as for the rest," he said. "Do whatever you must. I couldn't bear it if the throne went to my brother's grandchildren instead of my own."

* * *

The question had been building all morning. Etienne could feel it in the air, like a storm about to break. Lucrecia had avoided the subject all through breakfast but, as he was putting on his jacket to leave for work, in the hallway of the Gerard townhouse, the question came.

"Is it true?"

Etienne stopped what he was doing. His back was to her, she was unable to see the pained look on his face. He had known this was coming but that didn't mean that he was eager for it.

Still, the last time he had lied to Lucrecia - even by omission - he had nearly lost her and though they were wed now he was not eager to test her loyalty again. He turned halfway to her, his hands falling down by his sides. "They don't know the full story. Or even half of it."

"But it's true," Lucrecia said, in a voice that was soft and small and quiet. "You killed this woman."

"She was going to hurt Cinderella, kill her even," Etienne replied. "She boasted of the fact, that's why I..." He took a deep breath. "When I recieved the King's commission I took an oath to defend His Majesty, His Heirs and Successors in person, crown and dignity. I kept that oath. I defend the wife of his heir, and the unborn heirs of his line. I do not apologise for that nor do I feel any shame for what I have done."

"Then why not tell me?" Lucrecia asked. "Why not tell the world, for that matter? Why lie to everyone?"

"Because...because it's more complicated then I'm making it sound, there are things that nobody, not even you, would believe. Things that I wouldn't believe if I hadn't seen them with my own eyes."

Lucrecia folded her arms. "I must say, Etienne, that if I didn't love you that would sound an awful lot like an excuse."

Etienne cringed. "Now you see why His Highness preferred a plausible-sounding lie that didn't invite too many questions."

"Then what is the truth?" Lucrecia asked. "This fantastical truth that no one would believe, not even you who were there."

Etienne hesitated a moment. But...for God's sake he was sworn to defend the crown, not to drive a wedge between him and his wife for their sake. And Lucrecia was a friend of the princess, if not sufficiently close a friend to be let in on the secret, and he had kept enough secrets from her. He ought to have learnt his lesson the first time. "What I tell you stays between the two of us."

Lucrecia's slender eyebrows rose. "I'm not in the habit of gossiping, and I'm well aware of the importance of discretion." She smiled. "You have no idea how some of my clients witter on as they're being fitted. The things that I could tell you if I wanted to...if I wanted to ruin my business, that is, no one would patronise a dressmaker who spread their confidences around the town. Come," she said gently, invitingly, even as she held out her hands to him. "Your secrets will be as safe with me as anyone else's."

And so Etienne told her the truth, as best he knew it. He told her how, when he had shot Vanessa dead, her body had transformed in death into that of Grace du Villeroi, the treacherous lady-in-waiting. He told her how her faithful soldiers had turned into dogs. He even told her about the bear, and about what - as far as he knew - His Majesty had done under Grace's influence.

And when he was finished she took a step backwards. "You're quite right, that does sound incredible," Lucrecia murmured. "Now I understand why Prince Eugene preferred to make up a story. Vanessa's running away sounded much more plausible."

"It sounds absurd but it is the truth," Etienne said.

"I believe you," Lucrecia said. "It's just a pity that so many others wouldn't." She was silent for a moment, as her expression turned accusing. "You should have told me."

"I've killed before, do you want to know about every time?" Etienne asked, a little more sharply than he had intended. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...I didn't want to burden you with this, and their highnesses didn't want the truth to spread any further than necessary."

"I'd rather know before the truth comes out in the press."

"It wasn't supposed to come out."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I do." He walked towards her, and places his hands upon her shoulders. "I will tell you the truth next time, I promise."

"You expect there to be a next time?"

Etienne snorted. "I sincerely hope not, but anything seems possible nowadays."

Lucrecia shook her head. "It feels so unfair, you did what was right but now people will think that you're a murderer. Is there nothing that you can do, nothing that their highnesses can do?"

"My reputation has been shot before and I survived," Etienne said. "I will survive again, if need be." He paused, a frown creasing a face that seemed made for frowning. He could survive a tattered reputation because, ultimately, he lived on the royal patronage and favour - he only needed His Majesty and Eugene to know what had really happened in order to keep his job; but Lucrecia lived on her reputation, which needed to be as spotless as those of her noble clients. Association with him, and through him with this, could damage her. "Let me know if this starts to hurt you," he said. "Let me know and I will do something about it."

He wasn't entirely sure what he'd do, but he would do something.

He could do nothing less for the woman he loved.

* * *

Frederica swept into the sitting room wearing a gown of emerald that hung off her shoulders and revealed a good deal of her cleavage to the world. She smiled brightly as she saw Cinderella sitting on the settee in the centre of the room. "And how is my favourite and most beautiful spy feeling today."

Cinderella did not smile, rather she favoured Frederica with a look that let her know just how unamused by it she was.

"Oh, don't look at me that way," Frederica said lightly as she slumped down on the settee beside Cinderella. "I should know more than anyone else what a preposterous idea it is."

Cinderella managed to try to smile, or at least to twitch one corner of her lip upwards. "I'm sorry, I just...I suppose I don't find this very amusing."

"I suppose there's no reason why you should," Frederica admitted. "In all seriousness, how are you?" She placed one hand on Cinderella's belly. "And how are they, for that matter?"

Cinderella's hand joined Frederica's on top of her bump. "They are very well, but they're already beginning to tire me carrying them around. I don't know how I'm going to feel in six months' time."

Frederica nodded. "You're three months along now, aren't you?"

"More or less," Cinderella said.

"Well, I've no personal experience to draw upon but for what it's worth, I'm told it gets better into the second trimester."

"Yes, they tell me the same thing," Cinderella said, with a slight sigh in her voice. "I'm still waiting for that promise to be fulfilled."

Frederica was silent a moment. "I must say...I'm not sure that the strain you're under is helping in that regard."

Cinderella looked away from her friend and fellow princess, and her gaze fixed upon the walnut table in front of them. "I know what you mean. I think that...sometimes I wonder if I would have been better off remaining in the Summer Palace until...maybe until they were born, or at least until this was settled one way or another. At the time I felt as though I couldn't just sit back and do nothing while his grace did this to us but now...do you think I made a mistake. Oh, I'm so sorry, help yourself to the tea and cakes there. I should have mentioned that when you sat down."

Frederica looked at the spread of cakes and scones laid out in front of them. "Are you allowed to eat any of this or is it all for my benefit?"

Cinderella considered the selection. "No, I think I should be fine."

Frederica smiled as she picked up an angel cake, with yellow lemon-flavoured buttercream emerging from the cavern in the centre, holding the sponge delicately between her fingers. "Open wide."

Cinderella grinned. "I'm not hungry."

"I'm sure that somebody in there is," Frederica replied. "Come on, I'm not sure it's possible to eat too much when one is eating for three." She thrust the angel cake forwards towards Cinderella's mouth.

"Stop it!" Cinderella cried, more in amusement than anything else, as she shoved Frederica's hand away. "I'm having babies I haven't become one; I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself." She picked up a pair of napkins and spread one out across her lap. With the other she plucked the little cake from Frederica's fingers - ensuring she wouldn't get crumbs on her glove - and took a bite. "Thank you," she said after she had swallowed.

"Thank your chef, not me."

"Not just for this," Cinderella said. "Thank you for coming here; I know that usually I come to visit you but-"

"I would never dream of putting you to the trouble in your condition," Frederica said gently. Her eyes were keen as she leaned forwards. "You never finished telling me how you were."

Cinderella looked at her, then glanced away for a moment, and used the excuse of eating her angel cake to not talk.

Frederica raised one eyebrow. "Out with it. Or would you rather I guess?"

Cinderella swallowed, and put down the remains of her cake down on a little china plate. "I think that you could probably guess, but it's more than that. I...you won't tell Eugene this, will you?"

"In so far as your husband and I are friends it's through and because of you," Frederica said. "Anything you share with me in confidence will remain so, you have my word."

Cinderella closed her eyes. "Ever since I told him the news Eugene has been worried about me. And I understood why but at the same time...I thought it was a little silly at first. All I could think of was how wonderful it was going to be when I had my baby." Her hand went to her belly once again. "My babies." She rubbed her hand across her bump, from one side to the other where she thought - imagined, at least - her growing children to be, based on where the doctor seemed to listen for their hearts beating. "But now...now I'm worried too. With everything that's going on, sometimes I feel so...what if I'm hurting them? What if they...what if...oh, Frederica, it's terrible but I'm afraid that-"

"Shh, shhhh," Frederica whispered, leaning yet closer to Cinderella so that their shoulders were touching, even as she reached out and wrapped Cinderella's hands within her grasp. "Shh now, don't upset yourself. Nothing is worse than upsetting yourself over how upset you are." Her smile was sympathetic and understanding. "I don't think any woman can be ignorant of the fact that there are risks in this."

Cinderella looked down. "My mother, she...after she had me she was never quite...she got tired so easily, she was bedridden often. After she died, my father told me that she'd given up too much of herself to make me."

"Did he blame you?"

"No!" Cinderella said firmly. "No, that isn't what I meant, or what he meant, he meant that...Papa didn't blame me. Papa could never be cruel to me. I just...I made her sick, and she was never really well after."

"Did she love you?"

"Yes," Cinderella said quietly, for although her memories of her mother were too few they nevertheless burned brightly in her mind as memories of happiness and love. When the three of them had been together, mother and father and Cinderella herself, everything had been so perfect and so wonderful it was as though there was nothing but joy in the world.

"Then I'm sure she thought it was a worthwhile trade," Frederica said. "Just as I'm sure that she's proud of the woman you've become."

"You're very kind to say so." Cinderella smiled shyly. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"You can tell me all the secrets that you like."

"In my dreams, I have four children," Cinderella said. "Four beautiful children, two girls, and two boys. The girls have my eyes, and the boys have Eugene's strong chin. Eugene and I put our arms around them, and hold them close and keep them safe and love them so much that...that when we're all together everything seems perfect. I want...I want my children to know me. I want them to know their father and their grandfather. I want them to have years of memories of me: of my smile, of the way that I would hold them, of the sound of my voice when I sang them to sleep, the way I played them, and dried their tears or kissed it better when they hurt themselves; I want them to remember how proud I was to see them all grown up and falling in love and married I want to hold my grandchildren I want..." Cinderella blinked rapidly, there was something in her eye making it water. "I want my children to have the family that was stolen from me too soon and I'm afraid...I'm afraid I won't be able to give it to them."

Frederica raised one of her hands away from those of Cinderella, and wiped the tears away from Cinderella's blue eyes. "I pray to the Blessed Virgin every day on your behalf. From now on I will pray that all that you hope for comes to pass in time. And, though I cannot do more than that to keep you healthy or make sure that you deliver safely, I will do what I can against this duke who so fatigues you with care and worry."

Cinderella sighed. "For a moment I dared to think that it was over, but now..."

Frederica's face was still. "Yes," she said. "But now. Cinderella, I am your friend. I cannot imagine anything that you could do to shatter our friendship; at least I cannot imagine anything that you could do that would be in your nature to do. But you should have told me the truth, have I not earned your trust?"

Cinderella's eyes widened a little. "It isn't true," she said. "What they say, it isn't true."

"It is not the truth," Frederica agreed. "But neither is the story that your husband put out."

"How-"

"I can smell a lie," Frederica said. "God knows I've told enough. I allowed to be taken in, I allowed myself to believe you when you wrote to me and told me everything was fine, because the alternative - that someone as good and pure as you was trapped in marriage to an abusive monster and his father - was too terrible to contemplate. But now...now as your friend I ask you to be honest with me. What really happened?" She was silent for a moment, running her fingertips down Cinderella's cheek and neck and across her shoulder to her arm. "Did he start to hurt you?"

"No," Cinderella said firmly. "No, Eugene would never hurt me, he couldn't. He loves me."

"Sometimes the ones we love are those we hurt he most."

"Not Eugene," Cinderella insisted. There had been one or two times when she had feared that he might, when he had been so angry that it had seemed possible that he would - when she had risked herself in front of the bread riot and he had grabbed hold of her so tightly it was painful, and again after she had discovered the secret of Philippe - but that fear had been in her mind more than in his actions; he had shouted at her, but he had never behaved violently around her; nor did she believe he ever would. Their love was too true and pure to be profaned with violence.

Frederica cocked her head slightly. "Not Prince Eugene then...but what of his father, what of the king?"

Cinderella swallowed. "He...His Majesty, he..."

"He did, didn't he?"

"Only once," Cinderella cried.

Frederica's mouth tightened.

"He wasn't himself," Cinderella protested. "His Majesty wasn't...he didn't mean to it was...it was Vanessa."

Frederica's gaze was as flat as an anvil and just as hard. "Is that so?"

"Yes!" Cinderella said. "I...you might not believe this but it's the truth..."

When Cinderella had finished, Frederica's face was frozen. "Well..." she said. "That was quite a story."

"It's the truth," Cinderella said.

"You believe that," Frederica replied. She smirked. "And since I'd rather not be friends with a mad girl I suppose I believe it too."

"So you see," Cinderella said. "It really isn't true what they're saying."

"Yes, I see," Frederica murmured. "Although...he did hit you."

"I know," Cinderella whispered. "And I can't...every time I see him I want to run, to get away from him. I know he didn't...I can't help it. I can barely be in the same room as my father-in-law. What do I do about that? What can I do?"

Frederica glanced down at her lap. "My father never hit me," she said. "Instead he used a whipping girl, a rather ghastly medieval custom. She was...essentially she was like a lady-in-waiting, her job was to keep me company and take my punishments on my behalf. Her name was Joy, and for a while we were close friends. She was my only friend."

"Was?"

Frederica's smile was sickly. "It's very hard to retain affection for someone when your back has been turned into a mass of scars by beatings that are the fault of that other person," she said. "As soon as we both turned sixteen Joy left and never looked back. I don't know where she is now, she wanted nothing to do with me and I respected that. The point is...you shouldn't feel as though you have to forgive what was done to you, somethings are unforgivable."

"But he's Eugene's father, the grandfather of our children," Cinderella said. "I don't want to feel justified in feeling this way, I want these feelings to stop."

"And I wish I could help," Frederica said. "But I can't."

Cinderella nodded. "Eugene thinks...he doesn't think these things they're saying about us will hurt us that much, but I'm afraid it will be worse than that. What do you think?"

"I think the best way to answer scandalous reports is with another scandal," Frederica said. "It's what His Grace has done, and somewhat successfully at that: used the perpetual hunger for salacity to turn attention away from himself and onto you. I think that you should do the same."

Cinderella frowned. That approach didn't sound particularly righteous, but then the Duke and Duchess were not behaving particularly righteously towards them. "But...we don't know anything scandalous about them."

Frederica chuckled, and leaned forwards to kiss Cinderella on the cheek. "Leave it with me. I'll find something absolutely delicious."

* * *

 _Delicious,_ Frederica thought. _With hindsight I should probably have chosen a less glib way of putting it._

 _I would have, if I had known what my people would bring home._

It had not been very difficult to suborn one of the Duke's servants into taking Norman gold in exchange for the secrets of his master and mistress. From this man, one of the Duke's footmen, Frederica had learned that since that His Grace paid for pleasures of the sort that he could not or would not obtain from his lady wife. That might not be the sort of thing that anyone would admit to, but it was not the sort of revelation that was going to destroy anyone's reputation either; Frederica did not doubt that many men behaved in a similar fashion, and the fact that he had begun this practice during his wife's first pregnancy might even make him sympathetic to other husbands who had likewise suffered through the drought as their child was carried to term. Not every man could be as devoted and virtuous a husband as Prince Eugene - yes, thanks to Penny, Frederica knew all about that - and not every man could be content to snuggle with their wife, able to smell the honey but not quite able to reach the honey. Some needed that taste of sweetness on their tongues. His Grace was one such, but it would not make him a wicked man in the eyes of the world.

No, this news would not destroy His Grace's reputation nor that of anyone else, but nevertheless Frederica had found out where His Grace went for his extramarital adventures, and a little further investigation had turned up the somewhat disturbing sight before her.

A girl stood in her parlour. A street girl, a woman of the night as they were euphemistically known. Her clothes were ragged but not overly so, she had clearly not lived comfortably but nor was she obviously malnourished. But what had amazed Frederica and disgusted her since the girl was brought in was how she looked: a small girl, young but adult, with a petite waist and soft features. Her eyes were blue and her hair was strawberry blonde. She even had a snub nose, much like Cinderella. She was not an exact lookalike, you couldn't have kidnapped Cinderella out of the palace, replaced her with this girl and nobody would have noticed the difference but, if you were a small man with a shrivelled soul looking to symbolically degrade the object of your ire then the resemblance was close enough and more.

 _Does he hate her or lust after her? Or is it both?_ Just contemplating the question made Frederica shudder with distaste. The Cinderella herself would never fall into clutches was the only reassuring fact about this sordid situation.

 _Which is why he must exorcise his feelings upon an innocent in all of this._ "What is your name, Mademoiselle?" Frederica asked, trying to keep her voice soft and gentle.

"Charlotte."

And how old are you, Charlotte?"

"Eighteen, ma'am."

Frederica closed her eyes for a moment. _I suppose it could have been worse._ She opened her eyes again, and gestured to the bruises on Charlotte's arms. "Did His..." No, she would not call him His Grace, he was no longer worthy to be associated with the word. "Did the Duke do this to you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Frederica was silent for a moment, contemplating the angry red marks around Charlotte's neck. "He strangles you?"

"Yes, ma'am, with pearls."

"A pearl necklace?" Frederica asked. _Of course he does. Cinderella does love her pearl necklaces, after all._

"Yes ma'am, he brings it with him."

Frederica took a deep breath as she tried to control herself. Her father and Duke Henry would get on very well, it seemed, and it was hard not to wish on one the vengeance she could not take on the other. Here was a man blessed with more wealth than he required to live in luxury all his days, a constant stream of fresh revenue, a beautiful wife, children, a grand house, freedom to travel across Europe and beyond to his heart's content...most people would give their right hands to exchange places with him, but not only as he consumed with desire for that which he could not have, not only was he determined to persecute a truly good woman who had done him no wrong but now this? Frederica wondered if his lady wife knew what a beast in a frock coat she had wed.

"Charlotte," she said. "You can trust me, I give you my word upon that, but what I ask you next you must answer honestly. Does he frighten you? Are you afraid?"

Charlotte nodded twice in quick succession. "He...he's always so angry, ma'am. I worry that...sometimes..."

"You worry that he can't stop," Frederica finished. "Or won't."

Charlotte nodded again.

"Don't worry," Frederica said. "I can protect you. I will protect you. He will never lay a hand on you again, I guarantee it. Anton, have a room made up for our new guest."

"At once, ma'am."

"Thank you," Frederica murmured. "Charlotte, go with his gentleman, he will look after you for now."

"Yes ma'am. Ma'am?"

"Yes?"

"What...what are you going to do now, ma'am?"

Frederica smiled, and hoped that it reassured the girl. "I promise that your name will be completely kept out of it. And I have already guaranteed you my protection." It was a pity that she had to reveal this, not least for Cinderella's sake. Frederica couldn't imagine how her friend was going to react to this revelation. But there was no help for it, visiting a bordello might not have been unusual or scandalous but what Henry had been doing there certainly was. The press would have a field day.

She wondered, again, if the Duchess Anne knew what her husband was, and she wondered if the woman deserved the chance to find out before the rest of Armorique did.

* * *

"Please, your grace, sit down."

"Thank you," Anne murmured, taking a seat opposite Frederica with the laden table between them.

"Would you like some tea, your grace?" Frederica asked, gesturing to the pot on the table.

Anne smiled. "With respect, princess, I suspect that you did not invite me here to take tea."

"And what would make you say that?"

Anne's look approached contempt. "Princess Frederica, everyone knows that you are a friend and ally of Princess Cinderella. Some might call you more than that."

"Some people are very stupid, your grace, especially those who make of me some kind of svengali to Princess Cinderella," Frederica said. "But I am glad to hear that you are giving the style which is her due, even as your husband tries to take it away from her."

"It is hers," Anne said. "For now."

Frederica stared at the duchess opposite her for a moment. "If I may ask, your grace, did this seem like a certain victory when you began it? And does it still feel that way to you?"

"I confess I had thought that the princess' unpopularity would make any alternative seem preferable," Anne admitted. "And I certainly hadn't reckoned on you framing my husband for attempted murder and treason."

"I don't know what you're talking about, your grace," Frederica said blithely. "Although, even if I were to concede the innocence of your husband in that matter, you do realise that he would kill the princess in a heartbeat if he could."

Anne blinked. "I'm afraid that it is my turn to confess to ignorance, princess; I know not of what you speak."

"I see," Frederica murmured. "Will you profess ignorance of his infidelity as well?"

Anne smiled. "You cannot shock me with this, Princess Frederica, men are congenitally unfaithful to their wives."

"Prince Eugene is not."

The look on Anne's face tightened somewhat. "Princess Cinderella," she said. "Is more fortunate than she deserves."

 _Is that jealousy I detect in your face and in your voice? Why, I do believe it is. Well isn't that interesting?_

"For myself," Frederica said. "I have always found the opposite. Cinderella deserves far more happiness than the world in all its many cruelties allows to her."

"You think very highly of her."

"Her spirit soars above."

"Perhaps," Anne said, with a touch of melancholy in her voice. "Princess Frederica, what am I doing here? Did you think to shock me by throwing my husband's infidelity in my face?"

"No," Frederica said. "But I did wonder if you knew what form his infidelity is taking at the moment. Did you know that she looks like Princess Cinderella?"

Anne was still and silent a moment, confirming to Frederica that she had not known. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Have you noticed a pearl necklace missing from your jewellery box, your grace?"

Anne hesitated for a moment. "Yes," she said. "I assumed one of the maids had stolen it."

"Your husband has borrowed it, to strangle the poor girl he makes his substitute princess," Frederica said.

Anne shook her head. "You're lying, my husband-"

"He had no cause to hate Cinderella not too long ago, or even to know of her existence," Frederica continued. "Do you think, if I looked hard enough, I could find girls who look like you? What do you think he did to them?"

"At least he isn't doing it to me!" Anne snapped.

Frederica was silent for a moment. _She sounds like my mother. That's exactly what she used to say about Father._ "Is that what you think or simply what you tell yourself?"

"I am the angel of his house and the mother of children," Anne declared. "It is right that I should not be sullied with brutal base desires. But, at the same time, it is not fair that Henry should be expected to-"

"Control his base brutality?"

"Suffer in celibacy," Anne said. "He's not a monk."

"No, he's a rather wicked man, as I suspect you know full well," Frederica said.

"Why am I here?" Anne demanded.

"Because Armorique is about to find out about your husband's rare proclivity, and I wanted to fair warning, your grace," Frederica said. "And...I suppose I wanted to offer you my sympathies. I know what it's like to be in your position."

Anne hesitated for a moment. "I...I...I do not require your sympathies, princess, well-intentioned though they are." She rose to her feet. "I should go. Thank you, princess, for the invitation."

Frederica closed her eyes as Anne departed. _She did not know the details, but she could believe it once I told her. She knows what kind of a man he is._

 _If she were not my enemy I could feel sorry for her._

I _do feel sorry for her._

* * *

 _Author's Note: Just when you thought Henry couldn't get any worse._

 _This chapter was originally going to be concerned a lot more with the factory reform stuff, but when I got to the scene with Cinderella and Frederica I could feel the focus of the chapter shifting onto a different axis. The welfare stuff and its role in the ongoing battle for the crown will take up next chapter instead._

 _At university I studied Victorian historian, rather stupidly expecting it would be mostly political history like I'd studied at A-level; instead there turned out to be a very large social element, which I confess bored me a bit at the time but I've come to find more interesting as I've gotten older. I remember one week studying Victorian women and sexuality, and reading about the, frankly, quite messed up attitudes that prevailed among the respectable classes: the way that wives were put on a pedestal as the angel of the house, combined with the (kind of, sort of) demonisation of male sexuality led to a tacit encouragement of adultery and affairs because, as Anne puts it in this chapter, to do to his wife all the things that a man wanted to do would sully and disrespect the wife, so go and find someone too poor to make a fuss and do it to her instead. It's one of those moments that reminds you how distant we are from our ancestors._

 _This is the first time that Anne is forcefully confronted with what kind of a man her husband is. It won't be the last. How will it affect her? RAFO._


	27. Anne's Conscience

Anne's Conscience

After Frederica had taken her leave of Cinderella, with a promise to find something delicious about His Grace the Duke, Eugene came to escort Cinderella to his father's study for their meeting with him.

As Cinderella took his arm, and as they set off through the palace corridors lined with suits of armour and the portraits of Eugene's noble ancestors, Eugene said, "I want to thank you, for this morning and for now. For being around him, my father. I can't imagine that it's easy for you, but...it means a lot to me."

Cinderella shifted her grip on Eugene's elbow just a little. "I know that it wasn't really his fault, I know that she made him do it, but...I'm trying my best."

"I know," Eugene said. "And you're doing very well. What did Princess Frederica want to talk to you about?"

"How I was," Cinderella said. "How we were doing with all of this. She seems to think that the way to deal with this story about Vanessa and what happened to her is to find a scandal about his grace that will detract attention away from it."

"That would be a fine idea if we had a scandal to point to."

"I think Frederica is going to try and find one."

Eugene snorted. "Well, I suppose if anyone can find out something filthy about my cousin it's Princess Frederica of Normandie."

Cinderella's brow furrowed. She didn't quite understand why Eugene talked about Frederica like she was some sort of spider, but she was willing to believe that there were things about Frederica that Cinderella didn't know and couldn't see. What she did not believe - although the possibility had given her pause - was that Frederica was being false to her, as Serena and Theodora had been. She had gone too far for Cinderella to be simply playing a role; Cinderella had been deceived by the manners of false friendship in the past, but Frederica had proved her friendship by her actions when Cinderella needed her the most.

"She didn't mention Hispaniola," Cinderella said.

"I honestly don't expect she will, not until we get this business with Henry sorted out," Eugene replied. "It's a question of stability. While her father thinks that we aren't stable he'll be reluctant to make any kind of deal with us; once we make it clear that we're here to stay then I expect he'll end his silence fast enough."

They made their way to the King's vast and cavernous study. Cinderella realised, as she stepped into the bright room, with the light streaming in from the enormous windows and her footfalls - Cinderella had finally, and with a degree of reluctance, made the switch from high-heeled to flat slippers for the duration of her pregnancy - soft upon the gleaming tiles, that she had never been in this room on the far side of the desk, as it were. She had only been in here during her regency, when the King was ill and Eugene was away, when she had sat in the King's seat and received the ministers and visitors across from her. Now she would be sitting where they had sat, with the King in his rightful place once more. It would be a novel experience for her.

The King was sat behind his white desk, dwarfed by the size of the room and even of the desk itself. He looked up briefly, gestured at the chairs in front of the great desk, and then looked down at the papers scattered across the work surface, spilling out of the red box on the left-hand side.

As they approached, Cinderella looked up at the portraits that covered the walls: they were all of Eugene, getting steadily larger as he grew from bouncing baby boy to the grown man that she knew and loved. And as Eugene grew, so too in the paintings did he leave his father behind, giving them an air of melancholy. But one painting was new, it had not been here when Cinderella had used this room, His Majesty must have installed it recently. It was the painting of the royal family that had been done shortly before Eugene's departure for the American War: His Majesty seated in the centre, looking both pride and joyous as he dandled Philippe upon his knee; Eugene standing on his right, back straight, one hand reaching out for Cinderella on the King's left; Cinderella herself, smiling out of the painting. She remembered how she had felt when they had posed for that painting, how happy she had been, how she had felt as though she had a family, a real family, for the first time since her father died. And now that family had been torn asunder by Grace's malice.

 _And His Majesty must feel exactly the same way. That's why he hung the portrait here._ It occurred to her - Cinderella had never really thought about it before - that His Majesty had been largely alone since his wife passed away. Eugene had been often away, it had just been the King, rattling around the palace. A daughter-in-law and a grandson had come into his life in quick succession, followed hard upon by the promise of further grandchildren; but now he must feel as though he were all alone again, through events in which he was as much a victim as Cinderella was.

It did not erase the fear and uncertainty that she felt in his presence; the revelation did not make her feelings suddenly revert to the way that they had been before, but it did fill Cinderella's heart with pity for the old man, and determined to try and move past what had happened and find a way, if a way could be found, for them to be a family again.

 _After all, I was willing to try and make a fresh start with Drizella, can I grant His Majesty any less than that?_

Cinderella sat down, with Eugene beside her, facing His Majesty across the gleaming white desk. They waited, silently, for His Majesty to look up and begin the meeting.

He looked up at that very moment, as he completed writing whatever had been occupying him and replaced the quill pen back in the ink well. "Factories," he declared.

"Factories," Eugene repeated. "The engines of our wealth and progress true, but dangerous places all the same."

The King nodded solemnly. "While I have been King I have seen this country transform around me. When I came to the throne this was a nation of farmers; when you were born, Eugene, the first factories were going up across the land; now there are towns where the skies are choked by the smoke that they belch forth. In my reign I set up two Royal Commissions to enquire into conditions in factories, mines, mills, the new generators of this wealth and progress."

"Yes, your majesty," Cinderella murmured. "We read them both. They were...they were quite disturbing, at times. What people go through, what the children go through...I'm not sure any child should have to go through that." In the mines, children as young as five or six spent twelve hours sat in place in a tiny, dark, closed tunnel barely big enough for them to sit hunched over, opening and closing the gate for the carts laden with coal to be dragged up by more children, some of them of them pushing, others harnessed like mules, to the surface. Children were sent down the tunnels first, to see if it was safe for the older miners. In factories, they cleaned the engines while the engines were kept running regardless of the risk, matching their dexterity and swiftness against the turning of great wheels and the motions of brutal machinery. Even where they escaped death or mangling, the pressures of a twelve-hour working day brought rife disease and deterioration. It had given Cinderella nightmares to read them: nightmares of herself when she was a little girl, dressed in some of the frilly and poufy dresses that she had worn during her idyllic childhood when her parents were alive, trying to squeeze through mineshafts or crawl under machines as they throbbed and groaned above her head; sometimes she got stuck in the holes, sometimes her hands got caught in the gears, but she awoke crying out and thrashing wildly, waking up Eugene and Oscar and Penny in the process. The fact that it was not just her nightmare but real life for so many horrified her, and saddened her that so many people seemingly found this state of affairs acceptable, if not desirable.

The King locked eyes with her, and Cinderella did her best not to flinch away from his gaze but rather to hold it. His Majesty nodded. "No minister wanted to act on the findings of either commission, they went ignored."

"Whatever his other faults, at least Lord Roux appears to have more courage in that direction," Eugene said.

"It's not enough," Cinderella murmured. She raised her voice. "Your Majesty, Lord Roux's proposals are welcome, but I don't...we don't think that they go far enough, that's why-"

"You would like to present these alterations to the council today," His Majesty finished for her. "I have Lord Roux's proposal, and I have what you two have worked up. The differences are clear."

Lord Roux's proposed legislation sought to prohibit children younger than six from being employed, and restricted the working hours of children younger than thirteen to ten hours with a one hour lunch break. The children also had to spend two hours a day in school, and without a note from their schoolmaster they could not be employed. Four inspectors were to be appointed to oversee compliance with the law.

What Cinderella and Eugene proposed that the King should put back to the council differed from the original proposals in some respects: the working age was raised from six to nine, the working day was reduced from ten hours to nine for children under fourteen, and ten hours for children over fourteen. There were provisions for compulsory schooling for children under nine years old. The provisions were extended to cover not only textile mills but mines as well.

It was not all that Cinderella had wanted - she had wanted to fix the youngest working age at twelve - but according to Eugene it was the best she was likely to get without amendments deforming the proposal completely during its passage through the chamber. Considering the hostility to the mere idea of regulation, Cinderella could well believe him.

His Majesty set both proposals down. "Your education clauses will almost certainly be struck off. Better to introduce them separately as their own law."

Eugene shrugged. "Very well, if that is what you think best."

"As for the rest of this..." the King said. "Cinderella, I know that you have a tender heart-"

"With respect, Father, if Cinderella's tender heart were the only hand involved in this then the minimum working age would be much higher. I know that we don't live in an ideal world, and I know that there are realities that have to be taken into consideration; but compassion isn't some childish thing we should seek to outgrow either, we're talking about children barely older than my son. Father, when I was six years old I was racing my pony through the hallways with Etienne."

The King leaned back in his chair as a smile of fond remembrance illuminated his face. "Yes, I remember that. I remember how furious I was with you at the time."

"And I remember how you spanked us both, but me especially," Eugene said with a hint of a smile.

The King chuckled. "Strange, isn't it, how the things that made us so angry at the time now fill us with a kind of happiness to remember them."

"When...when I was six years old, your majesty," Cinderella said, forcing her voice loud enough to be heard. "My father would take me to the city gardens. He'd buy me Turkish Delight and we'd walk through the trees, admiring all the flowers. He wouldn't let me ride on my own, but he would take me riding on his horse sometimes. Your Majesty, I know that my father was a wealthy man, and I know that most children will never have a childhood like mine, but that doesn't mean that they can't live better than they do, does it? Eugene's right, I did want more. I wanted things that I could never get. This...please, your majesty, can't we be a little bold about this?"

The King stared at her. "You're aware, my dear, that this will likely be unpopular with many people, and most popular with those who have no voice."

"So I've been told, your majesty, more than once," Cinderella said. "It's a price that I'm prepared to pay."

"Father," Eugene said. "You speak of those that have no voice, but as kings and princes isn't it our job to speak most of all for those who have no one else to speak for them? You rule over all of Armorique, not just those who have been granted the franchise. Some might argue that you, that we, should think most of the good of those who have no electors to agitate for their best interests. Who will think of the lowest if not the highest?"

The King blinked, and he looked from Eugene to Cinderella and back with a fond look on his face. "Who would have thought," he murmured. "Who would have thought that a wife plucked out of obscurity would be the one to finally get you involved in the affairs of state."

"She is the partner I required," Eugene said. "Even if I didn't realise it."

The King said, "Cinderella...I know that you no longer trust me, let alone love me...but I hope you can believe me when I say that you have proven a gift to this house, one worth giving thanks for."

Cinderella bowed her head. "Thank you, your majesty."

"Six years old," His majesty murmured. "You are right, it is too young. Minus the education clauses, I will take your revised and amended proposal and place it before today's council."

* * *

"Your Majesty," Lord Roux said. "How delightful it is to see you attending council again. Good day, your highnesses."

"My lord," Cinderella murmured, as she and Eugene followed the King into the council chamber, where all the ministers and councillors stood waiting for them.

"Thank you, Lord Roux, it is good to resume my duties once again," the King said as he walked towards the table. "By the way, I see no reason not to accept the fiction that I previously invited you to form a government; my son did what was best for the country under the circumstances."

Lord Roux bowed his head. "I understand, your majesty."

"Sit, sit," the King declared, as he took the seat at the head of the table. Eugene sat at his right hand, and Cinderella sat beside him. She still, in spite of his gentle manner, did not feel entirely comfortably sitting any closer to His Majesty. The others took their seats around them.

"We will begin, I think, with the factories," the King said, opening the red box in front of him and taking out a piece of paper which he handed to Lord Roux. "Here is the draught I wish to be set before the Chamber."

Lord Roux blinked rapidly, and his eyebrows rose as he read further. "Your Majesty, this is not my law."

"No, Lord Roux, it is mine," the King declared.

"Yours, your majesty?" Lord Roux murmured. "Or that of the current princess?"

Something about the way that he said the word current, as though she might not be the princess, or a princess, for very much longer, made Cinderella frown. Lord Roux didn't appear to notice even though he was looking right at her.

"My daughter-in-law and our trusted councillor had a hand in the preparation of this, as did my son and heir," the King conceded. "What of it?"

Lord Roux coughed into his hand. "Begging your majesty's pardon but I am not sure that it is wise for one whose status has yet to be conclusively determined-"

"It has been determined by me, my lord, I will not be bound by my nephew's tantrum," the King declared. "Are there any substantive objections?"

Lord Roux exhaled loudly out of his nose. "I fear the business interest will not like this."

"The business interest likes nothing in the way of regulation," Eugene pointed out.

"I know that this goes further than you considered, my lord," Cinderella said. "But I beg you to remember that we're talking about protecting children; isn't it better to go too far than not far enough?"

"Madame-" Lord Roux started.

"Your highness," Eugene said sharply.

"Your highness, indeed, forgive me," Lord Roux said. "I fear that there will be economic, political and social consequences that you have not considered."

Cinderella rested her fingers lightly on the table. "That worries me less, my lord, than I would like to see the consequences that I have considered."

"My lord, you will present this before the chamber," the King said. "It is my will."

Lord Roux bowed his head in something approaching resignation. "As your majesty pleases."

"Thank you very much, my lord," Cinderella said. "I promise, you won't regret it."

"I daresay it will be your highness who receives all the credit," Lord Roux replied, with a wry smile. "But nevertheless, your highness may be assured it shall be attempted. I do not say it shall be done but I do guarantee that it shall be attempted."

* * *

The fact that Lord Roux had not, in fact, made any great protest or issue out of the changes that she and Eugene had made to his proposals buoyed Cinderella's spirits somewhat, after the morning's shock of Drizella's report in the papers. After the council meeting she felt more optimistic, and the knowledge that she and Eugene had set in motion something that would be of profound good to so many people gave her comfort, even as she turned her attention to how they could present the now-severed education clauses as their own law without too much delay. The school that Jean had confessed to her he was building on his land had inspired her, even as Jean claimed that Cinderella's example had inspired him: more children in Armorique should be educated, or better educated than they were. Cinderella did not exempt herself from that, she was keenly aware that not only was she lacking in the kind of education that a proper young lady ought to have, but any education at all. She was fortunate that she could read and write. Angelique could barely do that after a year's tuition. If more education were to be made compulsory for the young, especially those who would soon be prohibited from working in factories and mines, then Cinderella felt it would only be to the good, and she set to working out her ideas in a spirit more optimistic and hopeful than she had felt at breakfast.

Her spirit of optimism lasted all the rest of that day, for on the next day something else, something vile and disgusting and quite honestly a little frightening to her, was competing with the rumoured murder of Vanessa for space on the front pages.

It was a scandal involving the Duke of Cornouaille, and for that reason Cinderella guessed it was the delicious scandal that Frederica had promised. Cinderella did not find this particular to scandal to be delicious; in fact she found it had a foul taste, like spoiled meat or milk gone several days sour.

And it was frightening, or at least Cinderella confessed herself frightened by it. She had known that the Duke was no friend to her or Eugene - no friend of hers would have done what she did - but she had been able to believe that it was nothing personal, even as he attacked her background and her actions. He wanted the crown, and she threatened to put that dream, that family dream if Anne spoke true, beyond his reach. It was nothing personal.

Except it was. It was personal, if this fresh news be at all true. There were no names mentioned, the reports deployed suggestion and innuendo in much the same way as the rumours that Etienne had murdered the King's mistress upon Cinderella's orders, and perhaps that meant that there was about as much truth of it but if not, if it was true then it was very personal. His Grace hated her, and he desired her at the same time. Desired to do cruel and horrible things to her, at least. Reading that the Duke desired to strangle her with her own pearls, Cinderella's hands reflexively went to her throat, and her necklace of four strands felt a little tighter around her neck than they had been before.

That he wanted to treat her that way would have been bad enough, but that he had actually done it to some poor girl whose name Cinderella didn't even know made her stomach feel sick with guilt.

"Do you think it's true?" she asked. "Do you think that he really...that he wants to...that he actually..."

"I hate to believe it of my own cousin, but..." Eugene hesitated. "It doesn't matter whether I believe it or not. What matters is that he will never treat you that way. He will never touch you, I guarantee it."

Jean was no less solicitous in his declaration of protection. His scarred face was dark with anger as he declared, in the presence of all of Cinderella's ladies, "He will not harm you while I live, your highness, I guarantee it." He paused for a moment. "If your highness will allow-"

"If you're going to mention a duel, Jean, please don't," Cinderella murmured.

"If your highness will only let me call this so-called gentleman out and let me expose him for the dog he is!" Jean cried. "He goes too far in his insults of you."

"Technically he hasn't actually insulted her highness with this," Christine said softly. "It's disgusting, but he didn't make it public."

"An insult is an insult, whether it's said to your face or behind your back," Augustina said. "And he has been insulting Cinderella since he said she was unworthy of the crown. Personally, I think that a duel might not be such a terrible idea."

"What?" Angelique spat.

"Many problems would be solved if His Grace would just die of a convenient sword through the gut," Augustina said blithely.

"His Grace is said to be a great swordsman," Marinette pointed out. "They say that in Italy, he studied under Viggiani himself."

"Learning from the great doesn't make him great," Jean said. "Your highness, I'm sure that I'll be able to beat him-"

"But what if you didn't, Jean?" Cinderella demanded. "What if you died? If I lost you then I'd...I don't know what I'd do, and as for Angelique...no, it's simply too risky. I wouldn't let Eugene do something like this and I won't let you do it either."

"Duelling is, at any rate, considered an anachronism by many-" Christine began.

"And considered an old and well-respected method of settling disputes by just as many," Augustina replied.

Christine ignored her. "Your highness would be much better off allowing the sordid nature of this affair to damage his grace, without risking anything to force the issue. In any event, it would look decidedly strange for a mere officer - no offence - defending your honour, and not your husband."

"I definitely don't want Eugene to risk his life on my behalf," Cinderella murmured.

Jean looked decidedly put out, but he didn't argue further; judging by the look on her face Angelique was very relieved about that.

* * *

Over the next few days, stretching into a week, a tangled war of words erupted between the palace and the Duke's residence. It started with the publication of the factory law, and the ensuing uproar that Christine had warned Cinderella about when she had settled on this course. Industrialists and factory-owners who had supported her over the Corn Laws wrote to Cinderella accusing her of disloyalty, treachery, abject stupidity and other things besides. They fulminated against her in the press, and decried the interference of the government in the business of commerce. Their criticism didn't upset Cinderella as much as it might, at one time had done, whether that was because she had become more resilient to such things over the course of her time in the palace or because she had received just as many - more - letters from Conservative deputies, trade union bosses and even ordinary people and parents declaring their support for her she really couldn't have said.

"With respect, your highness, I tried to warn you," Christine said as the negative correspondence began to arrive, and the negative articles began to appear. "I told you that this stance, at this time, would cost you support."

"I know, Lady Christine, and you were right," Cinderella replied, in a soft tone. "And I never thought that you would be wrong, but it doesn't matter. I did what I thought was right, what I knew was right. I'm afraid I couldn't have done anything else."

"In any case," Augustina said. "You have gained as much support as you have lost, you have proved that you are not an intolerably free-market liberal, and proved what I have been saying to my friends about your motives. And, to be incredibly cynical..." she smiled, as though she knew something that no one else did. "If his grace the duke moves to capitalise on the support of those who mislike this particular act of Cinderella's...I think he may find that he has cooked himself for dinner."

Augustina enjoyed her slightly smug air of superiority too much to explain just what she meant by that ahead of time, and Cinderella and her ladies were left to wait until the duke did, in fact, move to capitalise on the support of those who were displeased with the idea of their factories and businesses being regulated even to a small degree. He published a pamphlet, available to buy for sixpence, in which he mounted a defence of the rights of commerce, of the necessity for commerce to flourish without interference, and sought to cast Cinderella as an ill-informed busybody who should have minded her own business instead of seeking to stick her fingers into the affairs of Armorique's wealth-creators.

With the help of Eugene and her ladies - mainly Christine and Augustina, it had to be admitted - Cinderella published a pamphlet of her own rebutting his arguments - or seeking to, at least - and buttressing her point with quotes from the two previous Royal Commissions on the subject to prove that neither she nor Eugene were, in fact, ill-informed upon the subject.

It was at that point that Augustina revealed the reason why she had not seemed in the least bit concerned about support gravitating from Cinderella and Eugene to the duke over this. "It's as Angelique pointed out a little while, his grace did nothing and not only that but he said nothing either. In being so silent he benefited from appearing to be all things to all people, or at least to all people who didn't like Cinderella or were somewhat unenthused by her. But now, in his zeal to attack Cinderella and her positions, he has finally come out in a position of his own and what a position it is, commanding as it does the sympathy of only a narrow section of the Liberal party."

"You mean," Angelique said. "He's just made himself unpopular?"

"I suspect he was rather unpopular already, what with the revelations about his deviant cruelty and murderous impulses," Augustina replied. "But if anyone was holding their nose on the grounds that he might have the right politics, or better politics than Cinderella, I suspect he has just given them reason to stop holding their nose."

It was somewhat hard to tell if Augustina was right or she was overestimating the point. Certainly His Grace didn't seem to feel as though he was losing, for he continued to blast away with another pamphlet in which he declared boldly that the factories were already perfectly well-run the way they were and had no need of a woman to mother them.

Cinderella knew how she wanted to respond.

"I...I want to invite his grace to visit a factory with me, with us, and we can see for ourselves which of us is right," Cinderella announced. "I...I've never actually been inside of one, and I suspect that he hasn't either."

Eugene frowned. "You want to go with him? Knowing what...the way that he wants to...do you really want to let him get that close to you."

"I'm not going alone," Cinderella replied, her voice barely louder than a whisper. She looked down at her growing belly, and her hair fell over her shoulders and around her face. "I wouldn't be brave enough to go alone." She looked back up at Eugene, and with one hand brushed her hair back behind her shoulders. "But you'll be there, I hope, if you don't mind; and Jean too. And...and I don't think that he'd do anything in public, where everyone could see, not with other people there."

"No, I think you're certainly right about that," Eugene said. He put one hand on her shoulder. "But, darling, I'm still not sure that you have to do this. Do you think it will change anything."

"I don't believe he'll stop trying to take our marriage away, but if he sees he's wrong about this maybe he'll change his mind. About the factories, I mean. And maybe...just maybe he's right, and I'm the one who should admit to being wrong."

"I highly doubt that," Eugene said.

Cinderella smiled for just a moment. "I know, but I feel as though I ought to see, even if it's a little late. And I feel as though he ought to see as well, if we're going to argue about it even over a distance. Otherwise...we're both just guessing, aren't we?"

"I suppose so," Eugene said. "And if you do it publicly then he'll have to agree or look foolish. Very well, I'll go with you. Do you have anywhere specific in mind?"

Cinderella nodded. "The mill where Jean used to work. I asked him about it, and he told me where it was. He didn't seem to want to tell me any more, so I didn't ask. That's...that's one of the reasons I want to see for myself."

"Alright," Eugene said. "We'll send out the invitation. Or throw down the gauntlet, more like."

Once more, a brief smile crossed Cinderella's lips. "You know, there are times when I wonder if he has a slight point, if a part of me isn't just trying to mother the whole country."

Eugene chuckled and leaned across the settee to kiss her on the temple. "And what if you are? This country could do a lot worse than have a good mother watching over it."

The invitation - or challenge, as Eugene had put it - was duly publicly issued, and equally publicly accepted by his grace. A few days later, Cinderella and Eugene were born in their carriage to one of the largest and most profitable textile mills in all of Armorique. The duke's carriage - all black, a solemn contrast to the gaudy royal coach - was there before them, but his grace waited until Eugene had dismounted and began helping Cinderella down before he dismounted.

"Eugene," he said, as his wife got down behind him without any assistance. "You're a little late, I think."

"I apologise, your grace," Cinderella murmured, as Eugene helped her down to the ground. "Good morning, my lady."

"Your highness," Anne said, calmly but not without courtesy, as she smoothed out her skirt. She was modest dressed - as indeed was Cinderella herself, for the occasion, which did not lend itself to displays of extravagant finery, quite apart from the risk of a ballgown or overly poufy skirt getting caught in the machinery. Both ladies were devoid of any jewels save for their wedding and engagement rings, and both wore plain silk chokers - Cinderella's was white, Anne's green - around their necks. Their hair was arranged in nearly identical low buns, bound tight around the nape of the neck. Their ladies' maids had thought alike, it seemed.

"Prince Eugene," Anne continued, curtsying to him. "Good day to you."

"My lady," Eugene said, courteously. "I apologise for any distress that recent days may have caused you."

Anne swallowed visibly. "You are very kind to offer your sympathy, your highness."

"Kind my foot, you have no need of sympathy," Henry snapped. "Why do you offer her sympathy when my reputation has been abused."

Behind them, Jean muttered something about abuse that Cinderella didn't quite catch. Eugene's voice, on the other hand, came louder even as it was colder than an icy river. "I have nothing to say to you. Certainly nothing fit for the company of ladies."

Henry snorted, as he turned his gaze on Cinderella. "Have you asked her? Perhaps she might enjoy-" he started to walk towards her, but was stopped both by Eugene's hand on his chest to forestall him but also the low, animalistic growl that rose out of Jean's throat.

Henry tried his best to convert his look of fear into a sneer of contempt. "Keep your dog under control, for God's sake," he snapped as he turned away.

Cinderella lookd at Jean. He was shaking a little, and his hands were knotted into fists.

"Jean," Cinderella murmured, as she put a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, your highness," he said quickly. "This place...it puts me out of sorts. I will do better, I swear it."

"You don't have to-"

"My place is by your highness' side."

Cinderella looked at him for a moment. "Alright, if you're sure. I think we should probably go in now."

They walked into the mill, where they were met by the owner and the foreman who greeted the royal party with a manner that Cinderella found somewhat obsequious. He began to lead through a mill filled with great power looms that hummed as they worked, weaving wool and silk, they hummed and clattered with moving of their many metal parts, hummed so loudly that the whole room mill seemed to shake with the vibration. The owner talked about how much wool they could weave in a day, he talked about how productive the factory was, but about the workmen who stood by the machines, already looking tired at around ten in the morning, he said nothing. He said nothing too about the children, some as small as Philippe and just as young, who stood near the power looms or crawled under them or ran up and down on the mill on errands for the grown-ups.

One young boy, dressed in a frayed blue coat with a yellow kerchief around his neck, went running by when he fell flat on his face in front of Cinderella.

She gasped. "Careful," she said, as she knelt and offered a white-gloved hand to help him up. "You're not hurt, are you?"

The boy bounded to his feet without the need of Cinderella's hand to help him up. His smile was wide, revealing several missing teeth. "I'm fine, ma'am. Foreman says I've got a head as hard as the floor!"

Cinderella covered her hand with her mouth as she laughed. "Is that so? Well, please be careful anyway. I'm sure nobody wants to see you get hurt."

"I don't get hurt, never," the boy said. "I've stuck my hand in them machines lots of times, they never get me. I'm too quick for them."

"How old are you?" Anne asked.

"Seven, ma'am."

"Seven?" Anne repeated, so softly that it was only proximity that let Cinderella hear her over the sounds of the factory. She raised her voice. "And how long have you worked here?"

"Three years, ma'am."

"Away with you, boy," the mill owner snapped. "Back to work, with you." As the boy ran off, the owner said. "As you can see, we take good care of our young scamps here. We have no need of government to tell us to do what we are already doing well enough."

"Seven years old," Anne repeated. "Henry, he's the same age as Charles and yet he works in this place."

Henry sniffed. "Don't compare that brat to a son of my royal blood, for God's sake. Show some sense. Both are in their proper place."

"He started working here when he was only as old as Helene."

"How long has everyone been working already, monsieur?" Cinderella asked.

"Four hours, this shift starts at six and finishes at six."

"And another shift works at night, for another twelve hours?" she asked.

"Of course, your highness," the owner said proudly. "We are never idle, not even for a moment."

At that moment, one of the great power looms began to shake even more than before, and groan as though it were an injured animal, and the parts trembled and tossed like a stormy sea.

"There's something jammed in there!" someone shouted. "If it's not cleared it'll shatter!"

"I'll do it!" it was the boy who had tripped in front of Cinderella just a moment ago, now he ran to the groaning and creaking machine and crawled rapidly underneath it, disappearing beneath the belly of the beast, obscured from sight beneath the grinding engine.

Cinderella found her breath had caught in her throat. She reached for Eugene's hand as the moment stretched on with no sign of what was happening under there. Jean's face was pale and his knuckles were white; he was breathing heavily. The moments stretched. The machine continued to groan. The men waited in anticipation and then, suddenly, the groaning stopped and the loom began to throb and hum normally once more.

And then the boy beneath it screamed in agony.

Cinderella gasped in horror. She couldn't see what was happening down there and she could hardly imagine it. Anne looked just as shocked as she wrung her hands helplessly.

Jean was already moving. As the screaming continued he was on the floor, trying to fit himself beneath the engine, holding out his arms, yelling, "Here, boy, reach for me."

The screaming continued, ait continued even as it seemed that Jean was pulling something, someone, out from under the machine. He yanked the crying, screaming boy out from under the belly of the beast and held him as they lay on the floor, as the boy's screaming subsided into sobs of pain.

"Oh God," Anne murmured. "Oh God."

The boy's hand was almost gone. Only a bloody, mangled stump remained. The rest...he must have gotten it caught. He had not been fast enough, in the end.

"Oh God," Anne repeated.

Both Cinderella and Anne rushed towards the boy, and towards Jean who held him as he sobbed.

"It's alright, lad," Jean said. "You're safe now, I've got you."

"Don't look, Cinderella," Eugene said, as he tried to turn her away. "You shouldn't see this."

But Cinderella couldn't look away. She didn't know what she could do, but she couldn't look away. She knelt on one side of Jean and the boy, as Anne knelt upon the other, and murmured what comforting nothings she could until help arrived.

Anne's eyes were filled with tears, but when she looked at her husband, and Cinderella followed her gaze, the face of the duke was utterly dispassionate and totally without emotion.

It was as though the boy's loss mattered as little to him as the swatting of a fly.

* * *

The first thing that Anne did when she got home was to go the nursery and embrace her children. She knelt on the floor, gathered them all to her and enfolded them in her arms: Charles, Helene and little Louis who was barely more than a baby. She held them close, and kissed each one of them, and tried to banish the images of one of them losing a hand beneath the power loom.

"I love you," she whispered. "I love you all so much."

 _So young. He was so young._

"Mother," Charles said. "What's wrong? You're shaking."

Anne released the children, and leaned back a little so that they could see the smile with which she tried to reassure them. "Nothing is wrong, my darling. Nothing at all. I'm just a little cold."

 _So young._

Charles was the same age as that poor boy. In another life it could have been Charles in that mill, or Helene, for the boy had worked in that place three years before fate had struck him down. She didn't know his name. She hadn't asked for his name. It didn't matter. He was a boy, one of many boys, a boy the same age as her eldest son and now he would spend the rest of his life with only one hand. People would stare at him, he would struggle to do such simple things as pick up objects and carry them across a room. What would he do now? How would he live? Would he live? His injury was bloody and brutal, and he had moaned so-

"Mama, why are you crying?" Helene asked.

Anne sighed, and her whole body sagged forwards. With one hand she wiped her eyes. "It's nothing, Helene dear. Please don't concern yourself on my account. Have you all been very good for nurse."

"I have, mama, but Louis keeps crying."

"Oh, dear," Anne murmured, as she picked up Louis and began to rock him in her arms. "What's the matter, little one? What can mummy do?"

Louis was not crying not. He smiled up at her as she rocked him back and forth.

"There, there," Anne whispered, and as she rocked him she began to hum him a lullaby, and as she hummed her thoughts went back to the mill, to the blood and that boy.

He would be well cared for. That was some consolation, to Anne's conscience if not to the young man himself. Cinderella had declared, without so much as a glance at her husband, that she would pay for him to be treated and looked after, whatever was required. And Prince Eugene had not contradicted her, nor complained about the expense nor even reminded her that it was his money, not hers. He had looked...it had taken Anne a moment to recognise the expression on his face: admiration. He was proud of her for what she had just said.

Henry would never have permitted that, either for her to speak out of turn or certainly not to spend his money without his leave. She had the distinct impression that he would not have considered helping an injured boy to be worth the expense. He hadn't said a word about it to her. It didn't seem to be affecting him at all.

Did it not trouble him at all, to watch a child as young as his eldest son be mangled in a place like that? It had been so loud, the throbbing and vibrating still reverberated through Anne's head like the sounds of some dantean abyss. Yet it had not seemed to trouble Henry one bit.

She had always known that her husband was not a kind man. He was not a tender or devoted husband or father. He did not care for her when she was ill, he spent little time with his children, he was often distant and preoccupied. Yet she had not thought him cruel. He never hit her, and the children were not afraid of him. But now...first this business of his apparent dark desires of which she had been wholly unaware and now this. The cold look in his eyes, the lack of emotion on his face they haunted. How much did she really know him? How much worse was he than she had previously imagined.

 _Was he always this way, or has his desire for the crown driven him to it?_

 _Does it matter? Either way, the result is the same._

Anne had envied Princess Cinderella from the moment that they had met: envied her power, her influence, her freedom. Now she was coming increasingly to envy Cinderella's marriage, too.

She rocked Louis to sleep before she handed him to the nurse, who took him and led Helene away.

"Excuse me, darling," she said to Charles. "I need to have a word with your father."

She found him the drawing room, hunched in a chair, staring at nothing with an air that strongly suggested he was brooding. Anne didn't require many guesses as to what he was brooding about.

"Henry," she said gently from where she stood in the doorway.

Henry said nothing. He continued to stare silently into the middle distance.

Anne raised her voice just a little. "Henry, dear?"

Henry noticed her then. He started, and his features wore surprise for a moment before his face settled into a scowl. "It isn't working," he said.

"Henry?"

"It isn't working," he repeated, in a tone somewhere between simmering discontent and genuine anger. "You told me that that woman was so hated that all the best elements of the country would rise up to support my claim as soon as I floated the notion that the marriage could be made morganatic. But they have not! If anything, her support seems stronger than it was before!"

"That's only a temporary reaction to her latest political play," Anne said, maintaining a gentle tone in the hope that it would encourage him to soften his in turn. "Once the memory of it recedes the bounce will fade and-"

"It isn't working!" Henry snarled, leaping up from his chair as he did so.

"Henry, please," Anne cried, holding up her hands for calm.

"That woman...that woman and her friends they insult me, accuse me, mock me they...I cannot bear it!" Henry seized a mock-Greek vase from off the windowsill and threw it at the wall. Anne flinched as it shattered into pieces. "How can they, how can anyone, desire that whore for their princess, their queen?" Henry demanded. Anne did not dared not, comment on the irony of he, who visited with whores, turning the word as a slander upon a woman who had by all reports been nothing but faithful to her husband. "How can they desire her base and debased children on the throne ahead of mine own issue?"

 _Why indeed?_ Anne thought, and kept her silence. She was coming to believe - yet another thing that she would never dare to say aloud - that the problem lay not so much in Cinderella's unexpected popularity but in her husband. The fault was not in his stars but in himself, he was too stern and cold, too proud and too entitled to win the love of any part of the politic. There might be those who hated Cinderella still, there were certainly those who lamented her influence upon the state and even a few, perhaps, who were opposed in principle to all she stood for; but she was warm and generous, kind to her friends and merciful to her enemies, and with those qualities she won loyalty even as she won support with her aims and ambitions. She was not universally adored, but at least there was something about her that could be adored.

 _Unlike my husband._ It felt disloyal even to think that, and she would never dare to say it. But it was true. It was the truth that she had avoided confronting when she had devised this plan to resolve her husband's ambitions bloodlessly: that it revolved entirely around people not wanting Cinderella for their queen; no one wanted Henry for their king, because there were no reasons anyone should do so.

She was spared the need to find an answer that would satisfy her husband when he turned away. "Why? Why did I...why did I listen to you? Why did I submit myself to your guidance on this matter?"

 _And what have you done to advance your own cause?_ Anne thought, but did not say. So far his ideas had consisted of some amateurish murder plots, she had been doing all of the thinking to achieve a goal she did not even want!

"Henry," she ventured. "Henry, if...if you had sought to take her life, or either of their lives, you would have been hanged as a traitor. I...I would be alone, and the children would be without a father-"

"Oh, enough, enough!" Henry snapped. "Leave off, for heaven's sake!"

Anne bowed her head. None of this was what she had come here for. None of it was what she had sought her husband out to speak to him of. And yet, now that they had started down this road, she was uncertain how to get onto the path she wished to walk; a sad fact that was as true of her life as of this conversation.

A frown creased Anne's brow. "Henry...Henry, when you saw that boy, what had become of him, did you feel nothing?"

"What should I have felt?" Henry demanded as he turned to her.

"A little compassion?" Anne suggested. "He is of an age with our son."

"But he is not my son," Henry declared. "Therefore why should I feel aught for him?"

 _And that is why the realm will never want you for it's king._ "Do you...Henry, do you desire Princess-"

"Speak not her name!"

"Do you desire her?" Anne demanded. "Is it true? What they said about you, is it true?"

"Why does it matter?"

"I want to know!"

Henry's jaw tightened. "You do not use that tone with me; I am your lord and master, not your servant."

Anne swallowed. "Please. Is it true?"

Henry snorted. "If Eugene had acquired a first-class mare no one would look askance at me if I wished to ride her."

"She's a woman, not a horse."

"Yes, and fairer than you for all her low birth."

"I am your wife," Anne said. "I have given you three children."

"Is that not your duty as my wife?"

Anne closed her eyes for a moment. She did not know whether she was better off knowing the truth or had been better off in ignorance. "You are a cruel man." _You are a monster._

She felt his hands upon her face, his lips upon her forehead. "Cruel? No, wife, I am not cruel. "I am wronged, and swindled and unthought of, and I do what I must to take what I deserve. All the rest, whatever I may do or darkly desire, is no concern of yours. Whatever I may do, know that I will never harm you." He kissed her again. "Look at me."

Anne opened her eyes. Henry was smiling jovially down upon her. "My love," he said. "Will you go into the vault and get my chequebook? There are some bills I need to pay."

"I...yes, of course," Anne murmured, turning away from Henry and leaving him behind as she walked across the house to the vault at the back. She pushed open the heavy metal door and stepped inside, walking lightly towards the back of the sealed, windowless room.

She was still in there when the metal door slammed shut behind her.

Anne stopped, her eyes widening in the dark. She retraced her steps and pushed against the door. It didn't move. It was locked.

"Hello?" she called. "Hello, can anyone hear me? I've gotten locked in here."

"And here you will stay," Henry declared from the other side. "While you think about your failures, and resolve to do better in future."

"Henry?" Anne cried. "Henry!" she banged on the metal door with one hand. "Henry, open the door! Open the door you can't keep me in here! Henry, please open the door!"

She cried out, but he did not reply. She screamed until her throat was hoarse, but the door did not budge. She banged upon the metal and only succeeding in making her hand ache. She pushed, but the vault door did not move.

She lost track of time, trapped in that inescapable box, locked in by her own husband in the dark, unable to see, unable to escape, unable to do anything but shout and scream in abject futility for someone, anyone, to open the door and let her out.

Anne began to wonder, trapped and lost and all alone, if he meant to never let her out. She wondered if he meant to kill her this way. Perhaps he meant to kill her. Perhaps...perhaps this was how it would end. Perhaps this was all her life would amount to, in the end.

"Why?" Anne screamed, as she sank to her knees on the floor, tears in her eyes, forehead resting against the door. With one hand she scraped her fingernails down the metal. "Why?" she repeated. She was not asking Henry why he had done it, if he was even still listening. She was asking...whoever or whatever was there: God, Fate, Fortune, Destiny, whoever why this was happening to her. What she had done to deserve this cruelty. She was asking, in the end, why Cinderella was so blessed and she was so cursed.

 _Am I not a woman as she is? Have I not a mind as sharp as hers? Am I not fair, and beautiful in the eyes of men? Have I not been a good mother to my children? Do I not love them? Have I not been obedient to my husband in all his follies? Then why, oh powers that rule our lives, are we who are so matched in nature so unmatched in the blessings of our fates. Cinderella is the realm's delight, blessed with a loving husband and all the more loving for the trust which he bestows upon her. She is her husband's counsellor, and the nation's. She is the prince's partner, viewed by him as an equal and by the country as the driving force of their affairs. While I...I will never be anything to my husband but a doll. I have played the doll, no doll prettier than I and none more silent. I have played the part that he demanded of me and I have played it well and my reward for such is...how can two royal cousins be so counterfeit to one another? If two women are well-matched in looks and wits and virtues should they not be matched in husbands also?_

 _Why is hers so good, and mine so ill?_

 _Why is Cinderella so blessed while I am cursed?_

 _What more can I do?_

When he let her out, she discovered that she had been in there for six hours. It had seemed longer.

"You forgot yourself, today," Henry informed her coldly. "See that it does not happen again."

"I won't," Anne gasped, as she crawled out of the vault like some kind of animal. "I won't, I promise, I swear it. I...I have a new idea, a better one, one that will succeed, I promise you."

Her husband's expression was cold. "I'm listening."

* * *

She went to the palace the next day - she had been locked in the vault for so long that it was too late to call upon the princess that evening - and was after a brief while invited up and admitted into Cinderella's bedchamber. The princess was dressed in radiant white, adorned with diamonds. She looked so lovely, small wonder the foul desired her just as much as did the fair.

She was so lovely. Beautiful and blessed and beloved, the most fortunate of all creatures under the sun. But she looked wary. Anne might even have said afraid. Afraid of Anne? Afraid of her? It seemed absurd to her, that she who had been so mistreated could strike fear into the heart one so much more fortunate than she. What had Cinderella to fear from Anne, when Cinderella had all that Anne desired and more?

"Your highness," Anne said, concealing her envy as she concealed so much of herself. "Thank you for seeing me. I know that you have little cause for trust and less for love."

"What do you want, your grace?" Cinderella asked. "Why did you wish to see me?"

Anne laughed bitterly. "Your grace? Call me not your grace, your highness, I am...I am far from a state of grace. I am here...I came to apologise, on behalf of myself and of my husband, for all the distress and hurt that we have caused you."

Cinderella blinked. "Apologise? To me?"

 _You sound so surprised._ "I was...I was wrong, to treat you as I did, to seek your crown, to attack your marriage. You are not the agent of chaos I was afraid you were. I see that now. I was a fool to ever think otherwise."

Cinderella looked confused, speechless. "I...I...I'm sorry, your grace, you must think that I'm a tongue-tied idiot, but..." she laughed, and it was such a pretty laugh that Anne could not help but take pleasure in it. "Would you believe that nobody's ever apologised to me for something like this before. I'm afraid I don't know what to say."

"Then say nothing, if it pleases you," Anne said.

Cinderella did indeed say nothing for a moment, but then she said, "Why?"

"Your highness?"

"Why...why are you apologising, I suppose? What...what changed your mind about me?"

"Your calm," Anne said. "You could have used the mob but you did not. You constrained yourself to...more traditional forms."

Cinderella pursed her lips together. "I would never hurt someone just because they disliked me. Did you think I would?"

"I feared it might be so," Anne replied. "Your...your supporters also deserve praise. They have been very well behaved."

"They are not savages, and they are not a mob," Cinderella said reproachfully. "They are just people, who deserve compassion for their troubles."

Anne nodded. "Yes. Quite. Your highness, my husband is a proud man. Too proud, I confess, to come here apologise himself even though he probably should. But tomorrow he will publish an open letter confessing to his mistakes and acknowledging you as a princess and mother to the future king or queen of Armorique."

"Thank you," Cinderella said softly. "That is...very generous."

Anne snorted. "I think we both know it is not, rather it is the least that is owed to you." She paused. "I know that our offences have been egregious, but nevertheless I hope that we can, in time, put this behind us and become friends. We are family, or our husbands are; it would be terrible if we were divided by enmity, would it not?"

"I...yes," Cinderella said. "Yes, you're right, your grace. I would like that."

 _And so it begins._

Anne took a deep breath. "I...right. I should go. Um, thank you for seeing me, your highness, I won't take up any more of your time." She turned to go.

"Anne, wait just a moment."

Anne turned, to see Cinderella rush across the room to her.

"You...you don't mind if I call you Anne, do you?" Cinderella asked. "You may call me Cinderella, if you like. If we are to become friends."

Anne hesitated. _Is it so easy? Can she forgive so easily? Who is she?_ "I...yes, Anne is acceptable."

Cinderella smiled, a soft and gentle, kindly smile, a smile to warm and chase away the cold. She placed a gentle hand upon Anne's shoulder. "Anne...oh, I'm sorry, I don't really know how to say this...your husband...I know better that most not to believe everything that I read, but-"

"If you're asking me how he feels about you-"

"Oh, no," Cinderella cried. "Oh, no, Anne, I want to...I'm trying to ask...are you alright? Does he...does he hurt you? Put like that it seems almost...my friends asked me that about Eugene and it sounded ridiculous but...are you alright?"

Anne's eyes bulged for a moment. "I...I don't...I...your...Cinderella, I...are you...are you concerned for me? For me?"

Cinderella's smile became more sheepish, and a little pained. "I know what it's like to be trapped and alone. I know that...I know that sometimes the hardest thing is to remember that you don't deserve it." She placed another hand on Anne's other shoulder. "I just want you to know that...that I can and will help you, if you need it."

Anne was speechless. She was frozen. In the face of Cinderella's raw compassion she was stripped naked and exposed. All her masks were shattered.

Before Anne knew what was happening she was crying her eyes out.

Cinderella enfolded her in her arms. "You're not alone, Anne," she said. "I'm here."

Anne didn't know how long she stood there, sobbing into Cinderella's shoulder while the princess she had sought to destroy hugged her protectively. Sobbing out years of fear and pain and hate and jealousy and all the feelings she had never allowed herself to display. Weeping for herself, and all that had been taken from her.

She didn't know how long she was there, but eventually excused herself. "I...I really must be going."

"Are you sure?" Cinderella asked. "I...will you be alright? Will you be safe?"

"I must go," Anne repeated, and left before Cinderella could question it any further.

 _That is why the world prefers her to my husband._

 _That is why she is the realm's delight._

 _That is why she deserves the crown and throne and all of it._

 _That is why...that is why it will be over soon._


	28. Sparkling Cyanide

Sparkling Cyanide

Anne left to return home - Cinderella very much hoped that she was alright there; it had been very selfish of her not to realise earlier that if the Duke were such a man as those vile reports claimed then he might be willing to do any number of things to his wife behind closed doors - and Cinderella, trying to put aside her misgivings for her safety and the concerns that Anne's tears had roused in her, rang for one of her chambermaids. It was Constance who answered just a few moments later.

"You rang, ma'am?"

"Yes, Constance, I did," Cinderella said. "Will you please be a dear and find Eugene, Prince Eugene, and ask him to come up here please? I need to speak to quite urgently. And can you also go around my ladies and ask them to come up?"

"Of course, ma'am."

"Thank you, Constance."

The door closed behind the maid. Cinderella turned away, and sat down on the bed. "Does it seem strange, Duchamp?"

"Ma'am?" asked Duchamp from where she stood in the corner of the room.

Cinderella bowed her head for a moment. With one hand she stroked the diamond bracelet on her other wrist. "I feel worried about her. Yesterday she was trying to take my crown away and turn my marriage into a lesser thing. But now I'm worried about her. Does that seem strange?"

"With respect, ma'am, I know you too well to find it strange," Duchamp said.

Cinderella shook her head. "I know that I've been taken in in the past. I know that I can be naive, gullible even; but those were real tears, Duchamp, I'm sure of it. She wasn't pretending to get on my good side she...she was upset, even if she wouldn't say what she was upset about."

"Her grace did seem somewhat distressed, ma'am."

Cinderella nodded gravely. "I hope she's alright. I really do. If...if I can't use all this to help people...if all my good intentions just amount to nothing then...then what good am I? If I can't help someone who is in exactly the same position I was in then...I don't know, I want to help her...because I feel as though she needs it. Or maybe I'm being as foolish as Frederica when she thought Eugene was hurting me. I'd like to be...but I don't think I am."

If Anne had asked for her help, if she had told Cinderella that she was afraid, that she was being hurt, then Cinderella would have done everything within her power to protect and help her. But Anne had not said anything of the sort, she had only cried, and tears proved nothing. So, for now, Cinderella could only worry for her.

Cinderella's ladies-in-waiting arrived at that point, and the group repaired into the sitting room. Cinderella took one half of the green settee, with Marinette sitting beside her and Angelique, Augustina and Christine seated around her. It had to be said that they were less enthusiastic of Anne's change of heart then Cinderella was.

"Cinderella," Angelique began. "I hate to say that you're too nice for your own good sometimes but-"

"Everything before the but is meaningless," Marinette murmured.

Angelique cringed. "You've trusted people in the past and those people have hurt you. Serena, Lucien-"

"And because I trusted them I gave them the means and the power to hurt me, I remember," Cinderella said. "But if Anne, or rather if the Duke does what she says he will do and withdraws his objections then...how can they hurt me after that?"

"Personally, your highness, I wouldn't rest upon your laurels," Christine said. "A good cause has the power to outlive him who gave it voice. The campaign against your crown and marriage may outlast the Duke's objections to your having crown and equal marriage."

"Is that what you call a good cause?" Angelique asked.

"Of course not, but if there were not some who believed it to be so Cinderella would never have had anything to worry about," Christine replied. "You must continue to solidify your support amongst the political classes of this country; it will only benefit you in the long term, see off any future efforts like this one...quite frankly, your highness, it can do you no harm at all."

"I agree," Augustina said. "You've made a good start, it would be a shame to stop now simply because the immediate need has vanished. As for the question of the remorse of the Duke and Duchess...I would be cautious and yet...I confess that even looking at it cynically I'm not sure what this has to recommend it as a strategy. It would be one thing to do as Serena did, worm their way into your affection and then like the viper bite you on your breast; but to attempt the same having first aroused your enmity seems ridiculous."

"Maybe they know that Cinderella isn't possessed of very much enmity," Angelique said. "If any."

"I take that as a compliment, Angelique," Cinderella said, with a slight smile. "Even if that isn't how you intended it."

Angelique held up one hand. "I admire your kindness as much as anyone else in Armorique, I love you for it as much as anyone else in Armorique..."

Cinderella chuckled. "I think there's another 'but' coming, isn't there?"

Angelique's mouth twisted in distaste. "A few days ago we found out that this man likes to find women who look like you and smack them around, strangle them, maybe worse and all because that's what he wishes that he could do to you. I just...now we're told that he wants to make up? Can you honestly believe that? Can you really think about him without your skin crawling?"

"No," Cinderella admitted. "No, I can't. When we were at the mill...I wouldn't have had the courage to go there alone. To be alone with him. But I'm not talking about trusting or forgiving his grace, I'm talking about Anne. I...you didn't see the way she started crying. I don't believe that they were false tears. I believe her."

"Even if her husband is a monster?" Angelique asked.

"Especially then, if that makes any sense," Cinderella said softly. "You are all wiser than I am in some ways. I don't know as much as I should about politics or literature or culture; I don't know what it's like to be so poor you don't know where your next meal is going to come from, or what it's like to sleep without a roof over your head; but I know, and I hope you don't mind me saying that none of you know this, I know what it's like to be trapped in a house with someone...someone terrible, someone who hates you, someone who you can't escape. I know what it's like to be afraid and alone. I know what it's like to have to struggle not to show how scared you are. I know what it's like to have to try and find reasons for hope each day because cause for hope is so hard to find. If Anne is in that position too then...even if I can only offer her a little relief then...I have to do what I can for her."

The ladies were all silent. Angelique frowned. "I...forgive me, I didn't think."

"It's alright," Cinderella said. "I wouldn't normally talk about it, but...it's important, here, I think."

"I hope you don't mind that we all worry about you," Marinette said softly. "It's just that you've been hurt so much."

"I know, and it's sweet, and I love you for it," Cinderella said. "But I want to try and make things better. I agree with Christine, oh I'm so sorry-"

Christine smile was somewhere between resigned and amused. "It's quite alright, your highness, I can stand a little informality. Christine will be fine."

Cinderella smiled at her for a moment. "I agree with you and Augustina, I don't intend to stop what I was doing. But I also want to make things better with Anne, and maybe her husband too. If they do what Anne has said - and if they don't then I'll know it was a lie - then I don't see how else they can hurt me, hurt any of us."

"Be careful," Marinette said.

"I will," Cinderella promised. "And besides, I've still got all of you watching over me."

Eugene arrived not long after, and Cinderella's ladies took their leave as Eugene sat down in the settee beside her.

"There's nothing wrong, is there?" he asked anxiously. "What was it that you wanted to tell me so urgently?"

Cinderella told him. It had to be said that Eugene wasn't any more enthused about it than Cinderella's ladies had been. In fact he might even have been less so.

"If Henry wants to apologise for his outrageous behaviour he can come and tell me so himself," he declared as his face darkened with anger.

"Anne says that he's too proud to admit to being wrong," Cinderella said.

"I don't care how proud he is, he has done us both wrong but you especially," Eugene said sharply. "I'm not inclined to let him slither away from that by sending his wife to make his apologies."

Cinderella took his hand, and squeezed it gently. "I understand, but...I'd rather that he didn't hold a grudge that makes him want to cause us even more trouble."

"You're being remarkably forgiving, even for you," Eugene said. "Considering how he's treated you."

"I'm forgiving Anne, more than him," Cinderella said. "I'd like to think that we can come to see one another better. Eugene...this is a good thing. This means we won. Do you really want to keep fighting?"

"No, of course not," Eugene said. "I just want to make sure that the three of you are safe."

Cinderella chuckled. "Now that they've given up on taking my crown and our marriage away, I really don't see what harm they can do to us."

True to Anne's word, his grace the Duke published his retraction the next day, admitting that he had been mistaken in his machinations and conceding that, as Cinderella had wed Eugene in an equal marriage, there were no good grounds to suddenly strip that equality away from her. He even admitted that it had been mere selfishness and ambition driving him to do it, which was a step further than Cinderella had expected him to go. Eugene muttered that such a mea culpa might have meant more if he had delivered it in person, but Cinderella could tell that he was not unhappy with what he'd got.

Over the next two weeks, Anne became a frequent visitor at the palace. Her husband never accompanied her, he was always too busy to do so.

"Busy?" Eugene asked, after Anne's visit had ended. "Busy doing what?"

Eugene might grouse, but Cinderella was secretly glad that Anne came alone, both for herself and also somewhat for Anne's sake. For herself, because as much as she hadn't mentioned it to Eugene she could not so easily forget the Duke's reported dark proclivities any more than she could easily forget what His Majesty had done to her under Grace's influence. She was glad not to have to worry about the duke's presence, worry about being accidentally left alone with him. When Anne was here alone, Cinderella could just enjoy her company. And for Anne's sake...if it was true what they said of the Duke - Anne still denied it - then it was surely good for her to get away from him, if only for a little while.

And, now that she was no longer trying to damage Cinderella's life, and now that she no longer suspected Cinderella of being some kind of vicious demagogue, Anne turned out to be quite charming company. She knew so much and she was so eager to share what she knew. Even though their conversation often dissolved into lecturing - if only because there wasn't a lot that Cinderella could add - Anne never seemed talk down to her, rather her tone was constantly one of enthusiasm as she explained her passions and enthusiasms to Cinderella.

"So you see," she said. "This stone could be the key to unlocking all the secrets of ancient Egypt. Because on the one side there is Greek, which we can read, we have a key with which to translate the hieroglyphs on the other side. We know what it says!"

"Then surely we can already translate the hieroglyphs," Cinderella said.

"Unfortunately it isn't quite that simple," Anne said. "Because we're talking about a pictographic rather than an alphabetical language, the best that we have is a word for word correspondence, not letter to letter, and even then it can be hard to tell where the words end or begin..." she sighed. "Am I boring you? You must stop me if I'm boring you. I'm aware that not everyone shares my interest in dead peoples and lost empires."

"Oh, no Anne, I'm not bored at all," Cinderella said. "You make it all sound so fascinating."

"It is. It really is," Anne said. "The pyramids, the Parthenon, the coliseum; Herodotus, Polybius, Livy. Livy! Do you know, there is a story that when Mount Vesuvius began to erupt, the naturalist and philosopher Pliny the Younger was in his library reading Livy; and there he remained, because the wonder of watching a volcano erupt paled before the joys of Livy's prose."

"My goodness," Cinderella murmured. "Was he alright?"

"Oh, yes, the eruption didn't come close to his villa," Anne said quickly. They were sitting out on the veranda, and so Anne leaned back in her wicker chair and lifted her eyes skyward as a longing sigh escaped her. "I'd like to go back there. Italy, or Greece; I'm not sure about Egypt, I'd be worried about the children. But somewhere...yes I would like to go back there. There's nothing for me here."

"Nothing?"

Anne smiled. "Forgive me, Cinderella, but your charms - although charming - are not quite sufficient to make up for the nullity of anything else that binds me to this place. This is Henry's place, not mine."

"Will your husband want to go?" Cinderella asked.

"I don't know," Anne admitted. "I hope so, but...I don't know."

Cinderella reached out and placed a gentle hand upon Anne's arm. "Are you alright, Anne?"

Anne nodded quickly. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Everything...everything is turning out very well indeed."

After two weeks of visits from Anne alone, her husband his grace deigned to join them. He was a little stiff, and he seemed a little uncomfortably, but then after everything that had passed between them - and the way that Eugene kept watching him - it was quite understandable. And after lunch was over he was able to muster a convivial manner as he invited Cinderella and Eugene to dine at his house in two nights time.

"I beg you both to accept," he said. "Let me come to know you better, and in so knowing make amends for the wrongs that I have done you."

"Please, say that you'll come," Anne said. "I feel as though we have become so close, so quickly."

Cinderella looked at Eugene. He hesitated, but then said, "Very well, we would be delighted."

* * *

Henry stood in the master bedroom, looking down on the street below as the royal carriage arrived at his house, driving through the gates as it conveyed the royal couple to his house for dinner.

The royal couple. That girl, standing in the way of all that ought to be his. Well, not for much longer. She was a fool if she thought that he had forgiven her for what she had done. They were both fools to come here, into the spider's parlour.

His cousin and that wretched woman were the last of the guests to arrive: Lord and Lady Roux had arrived first, and then Lord Georges and his simpering ninny of a wife afterwards. Henry wasn't sure why Anne had wanted to invite them, but she said that a larger party at the dinner table would make everything go much more smoothly. He had agreed, because even if he wasn't sure what she meant he couldn't see that it really mattered. Everything had been arranged, and everything would go off without a hitch.

Anne's new plan, so much better than her old one, was simple: gain the trust and friendship of the princess - easily done since she was so gullible and naive as to trust anyone - invited her to dinner and then poison her. It was to be cyanide in her champagne, Henry had already made the arrangements with a trusted servant to administer it into her glass. Henry closed his eyes, and imagined that beautiful face contorted with agony, her pale skin turning as blue as those beguiling eyes, imagined her choking, clawing at her throat, trying to breathe. He imagined her fingers convulsing, clutching at a life that was slipping away from her. He imagined her gaiety, that bright smile, those sparkling eyes, turning to horror as she realised that she was about to die and there was nothing she could do about it. Just imagining it made him ecstatic. He could only imagine how it would feel to see it happen, to see her die.

He could imagine few sweeter sights in his life.

* * *

Cinderella hugged a shawl of blue silk around her arms and shoulders as their carriage bore them to the Duke's townhouse. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?" Eugene asked.

"For agreeing to come," Cinderella said. "I know that you didn't really want to."

Eugene shrugged. "I admit that I wouldn't have sought out Henry's company even before he started trying to bar my children from the succession, but you seem to have struck up a friendship with Anne and I've no reason to get in the way of that."

"Do you trust her more now?" Cinderella asked.

"She seems genuine, I suppose," Eugene said. "But...I suppose that she has given me no reason to distrust her. We'll see what happens tonight, I suppose. I wonder what the occasion is?"

"Does there need to be one?" Cinderella replied. "They might have simply wanted to hold a dinner party for friends."

Eugene smiled. "True. And if that is all it is...who knows, if tonight is enjoyable it might even thaw my feelings towards Henry somewhat."

The carriage stopped within the gates of the townhouse, and as Cinderella was helped down from the carriage - the moonlight glittered on her sapphires bracelets - she saw that there were other carriages here before them. She had thought that she and Eugene would be the only guests but clearly that was not the case. She wondered who else was here.

"Did his grace mention any other guests to you?" she asked Eugene.

"No," he said, taking her hand and leading her towards the house. "No, I'm not sure who else is here either."

Anne met them in the hall, dressed in a gown of gold and sparkling in diamonds. "Cinderella, Eugene! Oh, I do apologise, we must be more formal in this setting." She curtsied. "Your highnesses."

Cinderella giggled as she embraced Anne by the arms. "Thank you for inviting us. You didn't tell us that this was a dinner party."

"Oh, it's nothing quite so grand," Anne said. "A table for eight is the perfect size, I think; anything less and it just doesn't work. May I tell you how lovely you look."

"Thank you, you look wonderful yourself."

"You're too kind," Anne said. "Your eye shadow is stunning, the way that the brown is flecked with gold at the edges...it looks almost like the wings of a butterfly."

Cinderella smiled. "That's the idea. I'm glad that it works."

"And your jewels," Anne said. She reached out and brushed her fingertips against Cinderella's necklace. "I know that you must prefer pearls, but sapphires suit you so much better."

"Well, I'm glad you like them," Cinderella said, to avoid telling Anne that she disagreed somewhat on that. "Um, who else is joining us?"

"Lord Roux and Lord Georges have already arrived, with their wives," Anne said. "Come, I'll show you to the dining room. I guarantee, this will be an evening you will long remember."

Anne led them into a spacious room - the walls were green, with a red band running through the middle of them - with a round table, made up for eight, in the centre of it. The Duke and his guests were mingling on one side of the room, and Cinderella and Eugene joined them there - Cinderella had never met Lady Roux, and this was her first time meeting Lord and Lady Georges face to face; Anne was good enough to introduce them - for few moments of casual conversation before Anne steered them all towards the table.

"Now that we are all here and gathered we might as well sit down," Anne said, ushering all her guests into their seats. She appeared to have chosen them in advance. "Henry, if you sit here and then Cinderella, you sit here to the left of him..."

Cinderella swallowed, if only slightly. She liked Anne, and it was true that the last time they had spent time together Henry had been courteous enough, but still...the idea of sitting beside him with no one between them...it made her mouth feel a little dry. "Anne," she softly. "Are yo sure that?"

Anne took her hands. "Trust me, he doesn't bite in spite of what people say." She smiled. "Please, it just won't work otherwise. No harm will come to you, I promise."

Cinderella hesitated for a moment, before her better nature won out. She smiled back at Anne. "Alright then," she said, as she took the seat to which Anne directed her. Eugene ended up on Cinderella's left, while Anne took the seat on Henry's right hand. Lords and Ladies Roux and Georges took the places separating Eugene and Anne.

The meal was sumptuous, beginning with pigeon-breast wrapped in bacon and stuffed with truffles, and continuing with a braised shoulder of lamb lavishly smothered in a creamy sauce, with mushrooms, roast potatoes, boiled potatoes, broccoli, cauliflower and carrots.

"This is absolutely delicious," Cinderella said. "Your chef is quite as good as anyone at the palace."

"You flatter our poor hospitality," Henry said. "The fact is that our chef is not actually at the palace."

"No, your grace, but I imagine that you're very glad of that when you sit down to dinner," Cinderella said with a smile.

Henry smiled back, although it did not seem an entirely kind smile to Cinderella. He may not bite but that didn't mean that - no disrespect to Anne - she wouldn't have rather sat between Eugene and Lord Roux. She didn't understand why Anne had been so insistent on seating the table this way. Still, although there had been one or two instances when she had thought - and feared - that Henry's hand was about to brush against her knee, nothing had actually happened. Perhaps she was reading too much into a smile.

In light of the company at the dining table, it was perhaps inevitable that the conversation would turn to politics, and the party was discussing the state of the nation as the champagne was brought out, just as the main course was almost devoured. Cinderella, who was discussing education with Eugene and Lord Roux, didn't noticed her champagne flute being filled. One moment it was empty, and the next the slender vessel was full of sparkling champagne.

"Drink up, everyone, drink up," Henry declared eagerly. "This is a 1673, a fine vintage. Drink!"

Cinderella gripped her flute gently at the stem, between her thumb and two fingers, and delicately raised it to her lips. She began to tip the champagne flute forward in expectation of the sip-

Anne lurched to her feet. "A toast," she said eagerly. "A toast, dear friends, to our most honoured guest tonight." She raised her champagne flute in the air. "A toast to her royal highness, Princess Cinderella, the realm's delight and a light of inspiration to us all. To the Realm's Delight!"

"To Her Highness!" said the others, or 'To the Princess' or simply (in Eugene's case) 'To Cinderella!'. They all raised their glasses to her before they drank.

Cinderella put her champagne flute down upon the table as she felt her cheeks begin to burn up. "You flatter me far too much."

"I think not, your highness," Lord Roux said. "The Factory Bill that will shortly become law is your work, and the realm is well aware of it."

"Though it is true that when your engagement to his highness was first announced there were many - and I include myself in this - who were intensely sceptical," Lord Georges said. "You have proven yourself to be energetic and intellectually curious. I have no doubt that you will be a fine queen one day."

"One day that will be very far in the future, I hope," Cinderella said. "His Majesty the King deserves many years with his grandchildren."

"Indeed," Anne said. "May you be the perfect princess for a long time to come."

"And the perfect wife," Eugene said.

Henry's face was as stiff as stone.

As the plates of the main course were cleared away, everyone rose to stretch their legs a little before dessert was served. Cinderella left her shawl upon her chair, the only person to leave anything on their seat, before Eugene took her arm and led her out onto the balcony overlooking the garden.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Cinderella asked, as they joined the others in the cool night air.

"It hasn't been bad," Eugene said. "Are you alright without your shawl?"

"Yes, I'll be fine," Cinderella said. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it?"

Eugene looked up. "A hunter's moon. A night for the prey to fear."

Cinderella shivered. "What a maudlin thing to say."

Anne was the last to emerge onto the balcony, and she joined not her husband but Cinderella and Eugene. "I want to thank you both for coming, once again; it means a great deal to both of us."

"Thank you for the invitation, we've enjoyed it so much," Cinderella said.

"I'm glad," Anne said softly. She stared at Cinderella for a moment, with a wistful smile upon her face. "Cinderella...can I ask you a question?"

"I...yes, of course," Cinderella said.

"What was it like, escaping that awful house?" Anne asked. "When you had the chance to get free of it, how did you find the courage?"

Cinderella was silent for a moment.

"If...if it's too hard, you don't have to-"

"It's alright," Cinderella said. "I...I suppose that I...I never let them make me believe that misery was all that I deserved. I always dreamed of happiness. And so, when I had the chance to make my dreams come true..." she tightened her grip on Eugene's arm a little, and smiled up at him. "I took it."

Anne chuckled. "I...I don't know if I can explain how much of a light you are to me."

Cinderella frowned. "I don't understand."

"No," Anne said. "And as I said, I can't explain it." She beamed. "Please, come back inside. Everyone, please follow me! It's almost time for dessert."

The party returned to the dining room. Cinderella found her seat because it had her shawl on it, and everyone else sat down relative to her, in the same places as they had done before. The champagne flutes had all been topped up, so that it was as if no one had ever drunk at all.

As the dessert - a delicious looking trifle - was brought out, Henry raised his champagne flute. "A toast to my wife, the mother of my children, and our hostess on this wonderful evening. To Anne!"

Cinderella raised her champagne flute. "To Anne." She raised the glass to her lips and sipped from the sparkling champagne. It bubbled on her tongue as though it were dancing there.

She set the glass down in front of her. "I'm afraid I'm not a great judge of champagne, your grace, but that was-"

She stopped. Her eyes widened. Her face was transfigured into a look of horror, all joy, delight and gaiety gone. She felt as though she couldn't breathe, it was stuck in her throat, unable to get out. Cinderella recoiled away from the sight beside her.

Henry's face had turned blue, it convulsed and twitched and twisted as he tried and failed to breathe.

"Henry?" Anne cried out. "Henry!"

Henry tore at his collar, his fingers clutching at his neck, clutching at life. It was like watching a man drown in air. He looked at Cinderella, with one hand reaching out for her as though she had the power to save him...and then he fell forward, his face striking the table with a very final sounding thud.

And Anne screamed.

* * *

Anne sat on her bed, clutching Henry's suicide note - forged, of course, but a very good forgery if she said so herself - in her hand. She stared straight ahead, as though she were lost in the horror of it all.

To be honest, having done it, she was a little shocked at just what she had done. Not horrified, no indeed not, but shocked.

She had...killed her own husband. Or at least, she had manipulated him into killing himself, which amounted to the same thing.

 _Arrogant, short-sighted fool. Did you really believe that you could kick me like a dog and I would simply endure it? Even a dog will bite if spurned too often._

Cinderella, who did not and could never know that her happiness, her very life itself, had been saved by Anne's intervention, sat beside her. She had one arm, one opera-gloved and sapphire-laden arm, wrapped around Anne's shoulder because she thought Anne needed comfort at this time.

It pricked her conscience, to lie to such a good, kind and virtuous woman like this; it pricked her conscience far more than the murder of her husband did. But Cinderella could never know the truth. No one could ever know the truth about what she had done.

"Anne," Cinderella said. "I'm so sorry."

Anne was not sorry in the least. But widows were supposed to be melancholy not jubilant, and so she kept her voice appropriately miserable as she said, "I had no idea he felt this way. If he had only confided in me..." _Indeed, how many of our troubles could have been avoided if he had only treated me as an equal, as Prince Eugene treats you._

Cinderella squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "What will you do now?"

"I don't know," Anne murmured. "I...I have no idea what to say to the children."

That, at least, was true. How did she explain to Charles, let alone Helene, that their father was dead? How did she explain death to a four year-old."

Cinderella was silent for a moment, and Anne remembered that she had lost both her parents at a young age. "I'm so sorry that this is happening to them, and to you. But...but at least your children still have you." Another squeeze. "You must take care of yourself now, Anne. You're all they have left."

"Will I be enough?" Anne asked.

"When...when my mother died," Cinderella said, as softly and tenderly as though Anne were a child herself. "My father worried that he was not enough. He thought I needed a mother to take care of me. But he was wrong. He was enough, we were enough, together, he and I. We were so happy together, we didn't need anyone else. He was enough. You are enough. Don't forget that."

Anne looked at her. So kind, so much compassion in that beautiful face. "Please don't frown for me," she said. "You have a face made for such smiles." She ran her fingers up Cinderella's hair, brushing against those rolls on top of her head, and intertwined red and white roses woven into her locks just above her ear. "What...if I may ask...what did your father tell you, when your mother passed away?"

Cinderella closed her eyes for a moment, and looked down at her lap. "He said my mother was in heaven now, and though it would not be for a very long time...I would see her again one day."

 _That is little help to me, I'm afraid. If there is any justice in the world to tell my children that would make an even greater liar of me._ "Thank you."

Prince Eugene appeared in the doorway. "Cinderella."

Cinderella glanced at him. "We can-"

"Go," Anne said, kindly but firmly. "You need your rest as well, and you shouldn't detain yourselves on my account."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Anne said. _What have I to be afraid of now?_

Cinderella rose to her feet. "If...if you need anything at all," she said. "Please, don't hesitate to ask."

"You are a very generous woman, princess," Anne said. "It is very admirable."

Cinderella hesitated for a moment, seeming unsure. Then she turned away, and allowed Prince Eugene to lead her out.

Anne took a deep breath, and permitted herself the only smile that she would ever make in response to her husband's death.

It had been easily done. So easily she had spent the entire evening until it actually happened waiting for the other shoe to drop. First, she had convinced Henry that her plan was to poison Cinderella while she was a guest under their roof and he been stupid enough to think it was a good idea; second, she had forged the suicide note and kept it hidden; third...third her heart had nearly stopped when Cinderella almost drank from the champagne, because her glass had been poisoned. If she had drunk before everyone got up from the dining table she would be dead now. That was why she had proposed the toast: so that Cinderella could not drink, even if everyone else did. And then everyone had gotten up and it had been child's play for her, the last one out the dining room, to move Cinderella's discarded shawl one seat to the left. Cinderella had sat down in Prince Eugene's old seat, and Henry had sat down in Cinderella's place with the poisoned champagne flute in front of him. With the champagne topped up in every glass, there was no way for him to know. That was why she had invited the Georges and the Rouxs: with a table set for four it would have been too obvious that everyone was sitting down in the wrong seat; with eight places the difference was small enough to escape notice.

And thus it had been done. She and Cinderella both were free from her husband's malice and his cruelty.

For the first time in her life Anne was free.


	29. The Princess Diary

The Princess Diary

 _To my darling children,_

 _This is something I probably should have started doing much sooner, except that – and I know that this will probably sound like a very poor excuse when you're older – I have been so very busy, and so much has happened over the last few weeks and months that I'm honestly not sure if I would have been able to find the time until now. Now, everything seems to have calmed down a little bit, and I should be able to do this properly._

 _I don't know your names. I don't know what you'll look like. I don't know whether you will be boys or girls. I only know that you are growing inside of me, getting a little bigger and stronger every single day, until you're ready to come out into the world._

 _Although I haven't seen you yet, I love you both so much. You are my children, and I will always love you for as long as I live. I want you both to know that, and to know it beyond doubt. You are, I'm sure, my greatest gift to the world; and this little book is my gift to you._

 _I didn't know either of my parents very well. My mother especially, I didn't get to spend nearly as much time with her as I would have liked. For as long as I was alive she was very ill and very weak, and when I was five years old she died. The memories that I have of my mother sparkle in my memory like jewels, but unlike the royal jewellery that may already be yours if you are reading this – and you are a girl, I suppose – my jewellery box of memories of my mother has always been very small and nearly empty. She didn't leave me very much to remember her by, just a dress that, well, let's just say that I don't have it any more and leave it at that. My father remembered her, and loved her very much, but I didn't ask him very much about my mother because it made him so sad. I thought that there would be time to talk about mother later. But then, my father left me too._

 _My darlings, I hope and I pray that you will know my love, and that I will know you. I pray that your father will see you grow into fine young men or beautiful young ladies, and see you married, and hold his grandchildren in his arms. Whatever happens, I know that you will not be alone. Even if my misfortune repeats itself, you will be well taken care of by our wonderful friends, whom I hope you know and love as I do: Marinette & Etienne, Angelique and Jean, Augustina, Christine. My beloved children, I hope to be in your lives every day for as long as you still want me there. But I cannot guarantee it. I left my mother very weak when I came into the world, and – although I haven't told your father this, or anyone except for my friend Princess Frederica of Normandie; I daren't tell anyone that I'm almost as worried about this as your father, they all think I'm so confident that I haven't a care in the world - I don't know if I will be there to welcome you, or for how long._

 _I'm writing this diary because I want you to be able to read this and know me, even if I am longer there. I want, I would like for you to know who your mother was, and what I did and felt and dreamed of. You may not need this. Your father may have told you all you need to know about me. You may not care to know. But I would like to leave this to you, something that I would like my own mother to have left me._

 _Except, now that I come to write this I'm not at all sure how much I ought to say, especially about what came before. How much should I tell you about my childhood, my early life, even the last up until now? I don't know. I suppose I shall have to see as I go, and if I ramble too much then please forgive me. I was born on the 6_ _th_ _of September 1789; I turned twenty-one a few months ago. My father was a merchant, but when he married my mother he brought a chateau and retired to the country where they could raise a family in comfort and security without him having to be away on business all the time. I don't know, my father was kind enough to never tell me this, but I think they might have hoped for more than one child. It wasn't to be, after I was born my mother was left so weakened that there was no way she could have borne me a brother or sister. But they were both so kind to me, they loved me so much and they never let me forget it. They gave me everything I wanted but at the same time they never let it spoil me. If I am allowed to truly be your mother, then I hope with all my heart that I can be half as good a mother to you as my mother was to me in the time allowed to her._

 _That time was all too brief. She passed away when I was five years old. Please forgive me, my dears, if I don't say too much about this. Even now, I find it very hard to think about._

 _I still had my Papa, and once I had learned how to smile again we were very happy together for a time. But Papa was worried that he couldn't raise me by himself, and I think that he still wanted more children, if only so that I would have sisters, for I was a rather lonely child, I must admit. And so he married again, to a woman of good family with two daughters just my age whom he adopted as his own._

 _And then my father died. As to what happened next, I beg you to forgive me if I don't want to write about it, those who know me well will tell you that I didn't talk about it very often. It was not a happy time, and I fear my stepfamily did not treat me particularly well. I fear they hated me, even if couldn't tell you why._

 _It was not a happy time, but with each dawn I sought and found new hope that some day, my dreams of happiness would come true._

 _Never lose hope, my darlings. If I am no longer here, if I can teach you one thing then let that message reach out of the pages of this book and touch your hearts: never give up, never lose faith, always keep believing: in yourselves, in those who love you, and in the knowledge that things can and will get better no matter how dark or hopeless things may seem at the time. So long as you believe then something, some magical act of kindness, will always come along to brighten up the sky._

 _So it was for me, when I was able – against even my own expectations – to attend the royal ball where I met your father. I didn't go to the palace expecting to find love, but I was determined to have one single night of happiness, and I wasn't going to ally my stepfamily to deny me that. Please, my darlings, please don't let anyone stand in the way of your dreams of happiness. Never be cruel, and never set out to hurt others, but don't let the cruelty and desire to cause harm of other people stand in your way._

 _I met your father and I fell in love with him on the same magical night. As I was standing at the back of the ballroom, lost in rapture at the size and scale and beauty of the ballroom, I felt someone touch my hand. I turned around, I felt so surprise I almost thought I could faint, and there he was. The most handsome man that I had ever seen. He bowed to me. No one had ever done that before. I curtsied clumsily, and then he took my hand again and kissed it. I felt as though I must be dreaming. This couldn't possibly be real, this couldn't be happening to me. But it was, and he led me out onto the dance floor and soon I'd forgotten about everyone in the room, everyone in the whole world, except him._

 _I didn't know his name, and he didn't know mine, but we danced together all night until I had to leave (I'll let your father tell you about that, he isn't nearly as embarrassed about it as I am), but he found me the next day and asked me to be his bride. I said yes. Of course I said yes because I knew, I absolutely knew as surely as I've ever known anything in my entire life, that I loved him and he loved me and we were destined to be together for as long as fate allowed it._

 _Since then, our lives haven't been the happily ever after that I had hoped for, but there has been joy as well as sorrow, and I wouldn't want you to think that I wasn't happy in my life for all its troubles. I made enemies: Serena, Grace, Theodora, but I also made great friends too: Marinette, Angelique, Jean, Princess Frederica. This life has been hard, sometimes, but I wouldn't trade it for anything._

 _Life isn't perfect. The world isn't perfect. We aren't perfect, and nor are the people around us, even the ones we love most in all the world. But so long as we believe, and so long as we're willing to work hard and never give up, then all things that are not perfect can be made better. I have tried to do that here, in this palace and in this life._

 _Your father – I hope he will forgive me for saying this – isn't perfect and neither am I. We loved each other from the moment we met, but it took us a little while to really know each other as more than a beauty – forgive my lack of modest, my dears, it's something I've always struggled with – and a devastatingly handsome gentleman. He didn't trust me at first to be much of a help to him in his duties as a prince, and to be perfectly honest I didn't trust myself in that regard either; and when I found out that he had a son that he hadn't told me about, that he hadn't told anyone about, then I'm a little ashamed to say that I was furious with him. But we grew, and we learned, and we didn't give up on one another, and because we kept our hearts open our love for one another has only grown stronger and stronger, and now your father and I are not only deeply in love but also best friends, and I believe now that our love will remain even one my beauty fades, which isn't something I might have said in the first few weeks after our wedding day._

 _You will grow up with a stepbrother, named Philippe. He is not my son, but I love him just as much as I love you; I beg you to be kind to him, and to love him as the brother that I may not have been able to give you._

 _My life has gotten better and better, and not only because your father and I understand one another better now than we first did. The false friends and secret enemies who populated my household at first, the ladies-in-waiting who hated me and wanted to bring me down, have all gone now, I don't have to worry about them and neither do you. In their place are friends I can trust, friends I can rely on, friends who love me and whom I love in return. If anything happens to me, or God forbid should happen to your father to, I know you'll be well taken care of._

 _The Duke and Duchess of Cornouaille are gone as well, although with luck you may have the good fortune to meet her grace the duchess and her children some day. The Duke, I'm afraid to say, was not a kind man. He did not like me, and he tried to hurt me and your father. But he is dead now. It was a very horrid business so I hope you'll forgive me if I don't say any more than that, but he is dead and his cause is finished. His wife, Anne, has turned out to be a lovely person and a dear friend, one I am sad to say that I did not get the chance to know better before she went away. She left not long after her husband died. She went to Italy, a place called Etruria. She writes to me every now and then, and seems very happy there._

 _When I first married your father, there were quite a lot of people who thought that I didn't deserve to be his wife, still less to be a princess of Armorique and a future queen of this country. I didn't have a title, you see, nor a lot of noble ancestors that I could name; I didn't even have any money. People like Serena thought that they could force Eugene to get rid of me, people like Grace thought that they could kill me, men like the Duke thought that they could destroy my marriage. They're all gone now, and things seem to be getting better. People don't sneer at me the way that they did at first, and I don't even hear them laughing behind my back any more. Now, when people compliment me I think they're being sincere. I think they're going a little bit far when they call me the Realm's Delight, but anything is better than being the target of the realm's derision, so I will accept delight and gladly so. Although I can no longer dance the night away in your father's arms, I can at least get through a party without feeling thoroughly miserable by the time its over, which let me tell you is a great improvement._

 _If my life has been improved immeasurably by the efforts of my friends, I hope it isn't too proud of me to say that I have tried my best to make this country a little better by my own efforts. If there is something besides you that I am proud of it is my efforts to serve this country, and in particular it's poor and hungry. The monarchy has immense power, and when you sit upon the throne I hope that you will remember to use that power wisely for the good of all of Armorique's people, not just for the richest. I want you to know that, although they might complain about your interference or worry about what your plans will do to their majorities, most of the politicians in this country are earnest, decent and hard-working men. I've certainly found that. Though I got off to a bit of a rocky start with some of them – Lord Roux especially – I feel as though we understand one another, and together we have accomplished so much for the lost and forgotten of Armorique. If this is all the time that I am allowed, I am content with the legacy that I will leave behind._

 _You may hear some things about your grandfather. I wouldn't want you to believe anything negative about him. Despite what some may say he has always been incredibly kind and courteous to me, even when no one else was. He welcomed me into his family and became another father to me. We've never been anything less than happy and content with one another._

 _It was six months ago that Anne went away, six months in which you've been growing inside of me, getting bigger and bigger all the time. I hope you don't mind me telling you that I'm not able to move very much at all because of you two. I love you, but I'll be glad when I can hold you in my arms instead of in my belly. I can't wait to see you, and the doctors tell me it will only be a few days now, you'll be born just before Christmas. I can't wait to see you. I can't wait. I will write to you each day until you arrive, telling you about me in case there is no other way for you to know. I don't know if you'll care, but I would have liked some way to know my mother after she was gone._

 _I hope to see you every day for many years to come, but if that is one wish that cannot come true, remember that I love you very much and always will._

 _Your mother,_

 _Cinderella_

* * *

 _Author's Note: The unusual format of this chapter was a decision I made to cover up the problem that the overly-rapid pacing of this story had landed me in, which was that Cinderella was only three/four months pregnant and already all the conflicts in the story had been resolved. And yet at the same time it didn't feel right to end the story before the birth of the children, since the story started with the news that she was pregnant and the fact of the pregnancy was what motivated Henry to act. It feels only proper that the story should end with the birth of Cinderella's children but then what to do about all the time between delivery and where the last chapter left off? My original plan was to use diary entries to briefly narrate over the intervening six month timeskip, but when I was thinking about why Cinderella would suddenly start keeping a diary (when if one has been mentioned before now I've forgotten) I thought back to the fears that she confessed to Frederica that she might not be there for her children (because of her mother, and the general dangers of childbirth) and the idea of writing to her children just in case seemed like a good one. And so this letter, summarising Cinderella's story so far and delivering a few tidbits of information (like what happened to Anne). I hope it worked out._

 _Next chapter: babies._


	30. A Little Touch of Magic

A Little Touch of Magic

The public waited with baited breath. A crowd had gathered at the palace gates, waiting for news of the birth. Would it be princes? Would it be princesses? Would it be one of each? Who would become the heir to the heir to the throne of Armorique?

The news that Princess Cinderella had entered into labour dominated every newspaper. Speculation ran rampant over the names (amongst the favourites were Louis and Charles for boys, Eleanor and Eugenie for girls), the godmother (would it be Princess Frederica of Normandie, perhaps the aunt-by-marriage Duchess Anne, or would the princess bestow the honour on someone in her inner circle?) the godfather (speculation was somewhat muted here by the fact that Prince Eugene didn't have many friends, but some columnists made valiant to spin out 'it's going to be Etienne Gerard, obviously' into the requisite number of column inches); every little detail or issue, no matter how minor, was poured over and turned into a sensational story: what would the children's relationship with their half-brother be like, how many nurses would they have, what colour was their nursery, where would they get their toys? No detail was too insignificant, no question too small, no matter unworthy of comment.

The stock market was predicted to rise by five percent if Cinderella gave birth to a prince. If she delivered only girls it was still thought likely to rise by three percent. In the harbour, three mighty ships of the line – the _Immortal, Achilles_ and _Princess_ \- waited to fire their guns in salute to the new royal children: one hundred and fifty guns for a boy, one hundred and twenty-one guns for a girl.

The city, the realm itself buzzed with excitement. The day had come! The princess would soon be delivered of her children, and the precious heir would come to stabilise the frayed succession to the throne of Armorique.

Only in the palace itself was there neither excitement nor celebration. In the palace itself, a grim pallor had descended like a shroud.

For Princess Cinderella had entered into labour some hours ago.

And she was dying.

* * *

The aged King sat in his study all alone, head bowed, cursing the unhappy fate that had fallen upon his house and line. It had seemed, not so very long ago, that fortune was smiling brightly as the sun upon him and his royal family: his son, after what had seemed to his father to be an aggravatingly long bachelorhood, had wed a girl who, if she was of no grand or noble lineage, was lovely to behold, sweet and gentle in her nature, intelligent if sometimes naïve and hard-working to a degree that had astonished the nation; Eugene had revealed a grandson of which he had previously been unaware; Cinderella had gotten pregnant with not one but two more grandchildren. The King's glance strayed towards the most recent picture on the study wall: the family portrait, of himself, Eugene, Cinderella and Philippe. They had been so happy then, when it had seemed that there would be nought that fragrant roses in their garden. His only regret in that time had been that his beloved Isabelle had not been there to know her grandson, or see her son grown to a fine young man and wedded to an excellent young lady.

But now it felt as though the sunshine of happiness was permanently obscured by clouds of sorrow, that all joy was doomed to turn to ash, and that any taste of sweetness would sour upon his tongue. His illness had been followed hard upon by his ensorcelment at the hands of the witch Grace and the estrangement with Cinderella that it had brought about, his own nephew had sought to supplant his line in the succession to the throne and then, after some months of peace in which Cinderella's pregnancy had seemed to proceed smoothly and they had, gradually, tentatively, repaired the damage that had been inflicted on their bond now, now it seemed that she was like to die, and the doctors could not even guarantee that the children would live.

From preparing to welcome the future hope and expectation of his line now he was faced with its extinction. _Henry should have simply had patience; if he had not taken his own life he would be looking at the throne for his eldest son now._ Eugene would not take another wife, as his father the King was certain of that. He could plead and argue and demand but he would not prevail. His love for Cinderella burned too hot and too fiercely, in her absence all heat and light within his heart would die. No considerations of state or throne or royal lineage would compel him to place a ring upon another finger, nor put an heir into another belly. And honestly, the King was uncertain that he would have the will even to make the futile demand that his son marry again. He loved Cinderella too, almost as a daughter; could he bring himself to replace her in his heart, even for the survival of his line?

His family would wither, leaving only a bastard son behind, and throne and state and royal majesty would pass to Charles of Cornouaille in time. Eugene would dwell in mourning all his days and so would he. What had he done, what had they all done, to earn such enmity from God and all the powers of fate?

Was there no force would spare Cinderella from this suffering?

And so he sat liked aged Priam of old, sunk in his grief, lost in thoughts blacker than the night, and in the closeted privacy of his room, all servants banished from the sight of him he began to sob into his hands.

* * *

Angelique sat in the palace chapel, perched on a pew in the front row before the altar, with candles burning all around her. So many candles. In the days leading up to her due date Cinderella had lit two candles here every day: a candle for each child. Prince Eugene had added a third candle for Cinderella herself. And today, as the princess' labour began, so many people, the maids and the servants and Duchamp and all the ladies-in-waiting had come in here and lit the candles for Cinderella and her children. So many candles. They illuminated the cloth-of-gold that lay upon the altar, their firelight glimmered in reflection on the silver cross and set its jewels to gleaming. They burned beneath the dying Christ upon the wall and chased away the shadows from his sorrowful suffering face.

So many candles and not one of them was doing a blind bit of good.

Angelique stared up at the crucifixion on the wall, and on His face she saw the mirror of her own torment.

"Take my hand, Jean," she whispered, holding out one hand to him where he sat beside her.

"Angelique?"

"Please," Angelique said, her voice as soft as sighing. "Please, Jean, take my hand."

She did not look at him, but she felt his fingers close around her palm and she squeezed his hand as hard as she could, as though she were afraid that if she let him go he would leave her like her mother had left her, like Cinderella was leaving her.

 _Like everyone leaves in the end._

"So many candles," she said. "You'd think...you'd think that at least one of them would do something. I mean...they're supposed to carry our hopes and prayers to heaven, right? You'd think at least one of them would reach...someone!" _Cinderella wanted two healthy children to love and raise; Prince Eugene wanted Cinderella to come through this alright; everyone wanted Cinderella to give Armorique and princely heir and come through it all unscathed. Do none of our wishes count? Is someone setting out to spite us?_ It sometimes felt that way. Cinderella suffered so much, endured so much, sometime it felt as though the moments of peace and happiness she managed to snatch were the rarity and anguished emotional torment was the norm. And now the wicked puppet master who so abused her would take her life, and the lives of her children too. Was that justice? Was that fair? Was that Cinderella's reward for being kind and loving?

Jean said nothing in reply. What could he have said? What were the words that would make this better?

They did not exist.

"She came here for you," Angelique murmured.

"Huh?"

"When you were injured, after...you know," Angelique said. "Cinderella came here every day, to pray for you to get better."

Jean was silent a moment. "It...it worked. If only-"

"Don't," Angelique said, fiercely for all the quietness of her speech. She looked at him, glaring at him with eyes that were moist with tears. "Don't, just...don't say that. Don't ever say that."

Jean's face was a picture of misery. He bowed his head. "I am her highness protector and yet I am helpless."

"Even the King himself is helpless now," Angelique replied. "There's no shame in it."

"No," Jean acknowledged. "But it doesn't mean that I don't hate it." His whole body trembled. "Why would I be saved and her highness not? Why would her prayers for me be answered when all our prayers for hear receive nothing but a deaf ear? She's so much more virtuous than any of us."

"Maybe that's why her prayers were answered."

"For me, perhaps, but what of her children?"

Angelique closed her eyes for a moment. _The children._ That...that was the final insult, really. Not only would Cinderella be taken from them far too soon but she would be denied even leaving a child behind her. _Why is the world so cruel?_

"I don't know," she replied. "I just...I don't know." She fell silent, still holding Jean's hand tightly. "I just...I wish that we'd never come here."

"You don't mean that."

"I know, but..." Angelique hesitated. "I didn't care about her at all when we first came here. I was only worried about her because I thought...because I thought that if anything happened to her, if Serena got her or if Prince Eugene got tired of her, then we'd be done for. Because I knew she was the only person who cared about us, even if I didn't really care about her.

"But then...but then...I don't know what changed. Maybe it was how nice she was, how kind and considerate; maybe it the way that everyone was so down on her all the time, always laughing at her behind her back, making light of her...maybe I sympathised with her; maybe...I don't know but now...now I love her, Jean. As sure as I love you, I love her. And the thing about loving someone is that they hurt you when they go." Her body was wracked by a sob, her eyes were obscured with tears, and the next thing Angelique knew Jean had enfolded her in his free arm and pressed her head against his chest.

"I'm here, Angelique," he said. "I won't ever leave you."

Angelique nodded. Her voice, when it came, was high pitched with grief. "I don't want to lose her. I hate not being able to help her."

"I know," Jean said. "I don't...I hate...I...I haven't felt this helpless since my mother died. I haven't felt...so much of a coward since my mother died."

"Coward?"

"Why are we here?" he asked. "If not...to hide from what's really going on. To hide from saying goodbye?"

Angelique cringed. "What are we going to do, Jean?"

"I...I don't know," he said. "I just...I don't know."

* * *

 _What harm is it, just when you are kissing your little child, to say: tomorrow you will die?_

Christine shut her book. Philosophy could bring her no peace at this hour. It was all very well for some old Greek or long-dead Roman Emperor to tell her that death was as natural as birth, and that for that reason she should not be ashamed of it, but welcome it in a cheerful spirit but now...now, faced with what should have been a moment of birth transformed into what seemed likely to be a time of death, the comforts of stoic philosophy seemed cold to her.

It was easy to rationalise away all fear and resentment of death when it wasn't someone close to you dying. Someone who should, if all things were just, have enjoyed many happy years of life with her husband, children and good friends.

Marinette sat on the other side of the drawing room, sobbing faintly into her hands. Augustina was trying, without much success to comfort her. Angelique had gone off somewhere, to grieve with her friend Lord Taurillion in greater privacy.

Christine should probably have joined Marinette and Augustina. But she could not. She sat apart from them, trying to read an drawing no comfort from it, feeling such an emptiness in her soul that she could not have comforted Marinette even had she wished to.

She had no comfort to give. What comfort had anyone, in the circumstances? Philosophy? Faith? A mother was dying in the act of giving life, and her children might not even survive as dubious fruits of her sacrifice. What greater display was there of the meaninglessness of human affairs. Dust to dust, a tale told by an idiot.

Christine was filled with emptiness. It had all been for nothing. All of it. Cinderella's hopes and dreams, the ambitions that she had shared with them, the assistance that they had given her; all her efforts to woo and win the support of the movers and shakers in society with Christine's help - Augustina had been of some limited assistance - her determination to withstand the Duke's assault upon her marriage, and the Duke's decision to contest with her. All, all futile. The Duke might as well have let Cinderella enjoy her crown in peace and waited for her to die in childbirth and drop the succession into his hand like a ripe plum. All that they had done, all that they had planned, all that they had argued for all...men planned and the gods laughed, and made it all for nothing. Would Cinderella keep her crown or be forced into a morganatic marriage? Who cares, she's going to die. Will Prince Eugene marry, and do his duty to the realm by fathering an heir? Yes, but the child will die and the mother too so there was never anything to get worked up about.

 _She would have been a great queen, had she been put on._ Christine was convinced of that. Cinderella had virtues enough as could have changed Armorique, vision, charm, the ability to inspire undying loyalty from those who served her. But now...now they would never know.

Everything that they had done rendered so, so pointless. What had been the point of it all?

What was the point of any of it, really?

Christine found that she was crying, and she couldn't have stopped herself even if she wanted to.

* * *

Eugene paced up and down on the little landing outside of Cinderella's bedroom. He had been here before, eight months ago, when he had urgently summoned the doctor after Cinderella fainted and in doing so put the cap on a string of evidence that something was not right. That was when he had found out - when they had both found out - that she was pregnant. He had not been enthused to learn it then, Cinderella had been unhappy at his lack of joy at the discovery.

Now he was here again, pacing up and down outside her room as it seemed that all his worst fears had come to pass.

He had tried, for Cinderella's sake, to put them aside. He had tried not to think too carefully about the risks to her, even when the risks were doubled by the discovery that he had gotten her with twins. He had tried not to think about how the strain of these past months might affect her when the time came. He had tried to tell himself that the months of peace and quiet that had followed his cousin's suicide meant that all would be well on the day. He had shown nothing but the hope and expectation that Cinderella wanted to see from him, and busied himself with her in setting up the nursery downstairs and hiring nurses and wetnurses and talking about names and godparents and all of an attempt to distract him from his fear, the fear that had been gnawing away at him for eight months no matter how he tried to banish it. It had stalked him like a wolf stalking a deer through the night, it hovered above him like a ghost as he embraced Cinderella in their bed, it lurked in the corner of the room as they worked together on the business of governing the country.

The fear that he would lose Cinderella to the birthing bed as he had lost Katherine.

And now, as he waited helpless while the doctors and midwives within battled to save his wife and children, it seemed as though all his worst fears were about to come to pass.

Though he stood on the landing, Eugene felt as though he were falling. He felt as though he had been standing on a floor of glass that had shattered beneath him, plunging him into a pit of darkness with no visible bottom. Etienne stood on the landing beside him, a still contrast to Eugene's frustrated energy, head bowed but watching Eugene pace. Eugene hadn't been there when Katherine died; Katherine hadn't wanted him there, she hadn't wanted the attention that his presence would draw - she always insisted upon discretion in their affair. Eugene hadn't been there, but Etienne had, at least at the end, and he had always attributed her fate to the incompetence of Katherine's doctor, some cheap local quack from her neighbourhood. Had Katherine taken Eugene up on the royal physician, so Etienne averred, she would be with them still.

But now Cinderella was being attended by the best doctors and the best midwives and none of it seemed to be helping. She was still...he was still going to lose her in spite of everything they did.

A scream of pain issued from the other side of the door. Cinderella's scream.

Etienne grabbed Eugene as he started for the door.

"Let me go!" Eugene snarled into his face.

"You can't go in there, you'll just get in the way," Etienne said as he held him fast.

"I need to see her, I need to-"

"To what? Do you want to remember her like that?" Etienne demanded. "Do you think that's what she'll want?"

"I need to say goodbye," Eugene replied, pleading, desperate.

Etienne's expression softened. "Let them work. There's...it isn't hopeless yet."

"How do you know?"

"Because she's still alive," Etienne said.

 _For how long?_ Eugene thought. He ought to have been in there. Even if he was only going to get in the way he ought to have been in there. He hadn't gotten the chance to say goodbye to Katherine, he couldn't let Cinderella slip away from him without a farewell.

Cinderella had been in labour for nearly eight hours when Eugene became aware something was seriously wrong. People rushed in and out of her room, and he caught enough snatches of disquieting conversation amongst the medical professionals to get some idea of what was going on: one of the babies was stuck, Cinderella was unable to expel the child; by the sounds of it, the doctors were considering using forceps to yank the babies out of her. The thought of what that would do to Cinderella...Eugene shuddered in Etienne's grasp, his whole body going limp for a moment so that his friend was as much supporting him as restraining.

He ought to have been in there. Even if he was only getting in the way at least he would know what was happening. But no, no if he was getting in the way he might...he had to let them work, it was the only way they might be able to save her. And the children, of course.

Within the bedchamber, Cinderella screamed again. There were a few moments of silence, an indistinct sound that was too soft for Eugene to make it out from the other side of the door, and the sound of a baby crying.

From the landing below him, Eugene could hear the lords and councillors stir at the infant sound. It was tradition that a royal birth, at least one in direct line of the throne, be attended on by lords and members of the privy council who would attest that a stillborn child had not been switched at birth with a common child. But as far as Eugene was concerned they could wait; he wasn't going to let them anywhere near Cinderella until he knew what was going on in there.

The door opened. The midwife, a slightly dumpy middle-aged woman, stepped halfway out of the bedroom. "Your highness, the princess is asking for you."

Etienne released Eugene from his grip, freeing him to take a step forward. His voice was hoarse and low. "How...how is she?"

The midwife's expression was downcast, almost fearful. "You have one healthy girl, your highness. But the other...the cord was round her neck, though we're trying to-"

"Yes, yes, how is Cinderella?" Eugene demanded.

The midwife recoiled slightly. She hesitated a moment before she spoke. "Her highness...she's bleeding heavily."

"Oh God," Eugene murmured. "Will she...can it be stopped?"

The midwife stepped back. "Best you go inside and see her now, your highness. While there's time."

 _No. No, God, no._ Eugene wanted to scream, he wanted to shout, he wanted to curse God and fate and world, he wanted to demand why it should be so. But most of all he wanted to see Cinderella and...and say goodbye.

He glanced at Etienne. "Don't let them up. Not until..."

Etienne nodded. "You have my word."

Eugene closed his eyes for a moment, screwing them up tight as though by shutting his eyes he could make all this go away. And then he pushed past the midwife and walked into the bedroom.

Cinderella's bedchamber was as bright and airy as ever, but now it seemed to lack that charm with which its occupant had imbued it by her presence; it was oppressed by a pallor that no amount of sunlight could dispel. The chamber was crowded, doctors and midwives standing around looking helpless, bloody towels and bowls of water and medical equipment lying everywhere. Only one man was doing something, trying to revive a motionless, noiseless child swathed in a blanket.

The bed was soaked through with blood. So much blood. His wife's blood, Cinderella's blood leeching away and taking her life with it.

Cinderella was half sitting up in bed. She was pale, so pale; he wouldn't have believed that someone who was already so fair could become so much paler still. A midwife was holding a squalling, screaming, struggling child for her inspection and in spite of everything, in spite of the struggle and the screams and the fact that she...in spite of the fact that she was fading away and there was nothing that anyone could do about it, in spite of all that Cinderella was smiling.

Cinderella looked up at him. She was still smiling, it amazed him that she could smile at such a time but she did. "Eugene, look," she said, and though her voice was quiet and weak it yet held her joy in it. "Our girl," said. "Our baby girl."

Eugene stood beside her, one hand upon her trembling shoulder, and looked down upon the pink and screaming child before him. Her eyes were blue, and what little hair she had was golden.

"She has your eyes," Eugene said, forcing himself to sound happy for Cinderella's sake. _I will call her Cinderella, after the mother she will never know._

Cinderella's smile broadened just a little more. "And my hair as well. When I was young, I had golden hair just like that." She leaned back on the pillows, and closed her eyes a moment. "My father used to tell me I had sunshine in my hair. When it started to darken I cried, because I thought that my stepfamily had stolen even my lovely hair away from me."

Eugene almost choked. "Your hair is beautiful just the way it is."

Cinderella gave a little soft chuckle. "You're so sweet. You always know just what to say to me." She reached out with one shaking hand, and stroked the hair of their girl. "You have sunshine in your hair, my darling. My little angel." Her smile faded, as if at a painful memory. "I'm so sorry, Eugene, I tried, but they say that the other-"

"Shhh, hush now, none of that," Eugene said. The midwife retreated as he Eugene sat down on the edge of the bed and put his arm around Cinderella. "You mustn't blame yourself. Just...just rest now and-"

"Eugene," Cinderella said, the word coming out as a sigh, as though she were about to fall asleep at any moment.

"Yes?" Eugene asked softly, quietly.

"Promise me," Cinderella murmured. "Promise me you won't blame her, either of them. Promise me...promise me you'll them and cherish them enough for both of us."

Eugene winced inwardly. She knew him too well, clearly. After Katherine died...he had blamed Philippe for her passing, and cut his son completely out of his life in consequence. Cinderella sought to prevent a repeat of that and honestly...honestly she was right to fear it. He could feel the resentment, unfair and unfounded as it was, beginning to build in him towards the squalling child who had condemned his wife, the woman he loved.

"I...I promise," he said, and he meant it. For Cinderella's sake he would never show what he felt. He would be as good and loving a father as his own father had been to him, better. He would love the girl, perhaps even now the girls, as much as Cinderella would have had she lived.

Cinderella's smile returned, but more wan now and much wearier. "I'm glad. Now...now, I can-"

"No," Eugene begged. "Please don't go."

"Kiss me," Cinderella said.

"What?"

"Please," Cinderella said. "Kiss me, one last time."

Eugene stared at her a moment, pale and wan and fading. And then he bent down, pressed his lips to hers, and with his tongue caressed her.

And when he pulled away Cinderella's eyes were closed, and her head slumped to one side, and only the slightest expulsion from between her lips showed that the fateful moment had yet to come, yet it could not be long now.

Eugene's eyes were filled with tears as he began to blub like a boy barely more than a babe himself.

* * *

Unseen by the prince, unseen by the princess, unseen by any of those worthies who crowded the bedroom and held one babe or struggled to revive the other, a little trail of sparkles drifted down from the ceiling to light upon the fading princess. And another stream of those sparkling silver motes descended on the noiseless babe.

Cinderella's eyes snapped open as she gasped for breath as though she had been drowning in the ocean or in some deep and rapidly flowing river, only to now be pulled out of the water to gasp at air and life itself. Instantly, a little colour returned to her cheeks, and the astonished physicians observed in disbelief that the bleeding had stopped.

And in the exact same moment, the second child began to cry.

* * *

Cannon fire echoed through the darkening sky as the warships fired their guns in salute of the infant princesses. When the news had been announced - Princess Cinderella was delivered of two girls, the mother and the children were doing well - a great cheer had erupted from the crowd outside, and even now the sounds of revelry and street parties could be heard in the city below. The church bells were ringing, and the late editions of the evening papers were spreading the news throughout the town and beyond.

Cinderella sat up in, and tried not to show her tiredness. If they knew, if even Eugene knew, how exhausted she felt then they might take her children away and give them to the nurses, and she wasn't quite willing to let them go just yet.

So she stifled her sigh, and held her babies in her arms as they both slumbered in her gentle embrace.

Her babies. Her children. She still couldn't believe it. Life out of her. These beautiful angels in her arms had come from her. Her children, her daughters.

They both had her eyes - closed in slumber now - but while one had the golden locks she had had when she was younger, while the other had Eugene's dark hair. They were both so beautiful. Just looking at them she felt...not even Eugene could make her feel this way, when she looked at them her heart felt as though it would...she loved them so much.

 _I don't know if I can be a good mother to you both,_ Cinderella thought. _But I'm going to try my very best. And I promise that I will never stop loving you._

Eugene sat beside her, perched on the side of the bed with one arm around Cinderella's shoulders as she looked down upon her and their children both. This was the first real moment of peace that either of them had enjoyed since Cinderella's miraculous recovery, and the equally miraculous revival of their dark-haired daughter. Cinderella had her own ideas about that, but it wasn't something she could confirm until she was alone. After that, after she had woken up, it had been one thing after another: first the lords and councillors had come in to confirm that the children were indeed hers, and hadn't been swapped for anyone else's babies; then the King had come to coo over his granddaughters, and all of thier friends had wanted to see and offer their congratulations too. Cinderella didn't mean to sound ungrateful, and she loved them all and it was so very sweet of them to have been so concerned for her, but it had all gotten a little much after awhile, especially since she'd been feeling a little tired already.

But now, she and Eugene were alone. Alone with their daughters.

"Can you believe it, Eugene?" Cinderella whispered. "Our children."

"Our children," Eugene agreed, and kissed her on top of the head.

Cinderella smiled beatifically down upon the sleeping babes. She was glad, so very glad, that she would be able to be a mother to them both, but she would have liked to hope that Eugene would have kept his promise, for her sake.

"We still need to name them," Eugene added.

Cinderella nodded. "I've thought about that. I...I thought about Isabelle," she slightly lifted up the golden-haired girl in her left arm to indicate it was she for whom she had considered Isabelle. "And Annabelle." Again, Cinderella slightly lifted the dark-haired child in her right hand.

Eugene was silent for a moment. "Isabelle," he said. "After my mother."

"And Annabelle, after mine," said Cinderella.

She looked up into Eugene's face. He looked pleased, but at the same time touched by a certain melancholy, like a light dusting of frost over a rose. "Isabelle and Annabelle," he murmured. "Yes, yes, I think those are fine and lovely names. Isabelle and Annabelle, welcome to the world."

"Yes," Cinderella whispered. "I'm your mother, and this is your father, and we're going to take good care of you."

"The very best care," Eugene said. "For you are our daughters and our princesses; and one day, our little Isabelle, you will be Queen of Armorique."

Cinderella chuckled, and a sigh of weariness escaped her lips.

It didn't escape the notice of Eugene. "I think you need to get some rest," he said. "I'll take the girls and see them to put to bed in the nursery."

"Must you?" Cinderella said. "I just want...just a little longer."

Eugene smiled. "You're very lucky to still be with us, Cinderella. So fortunate I can't explain, and neither can anyone else." He hugged her tight, and kissed her on the forehead. "But you are still here, and you're not going anywhere, and we have many wonderful years ahead of us with the girls. But for now, you need to rest and recover your strength."

Cinderella sighed again, which sigh very nearly turned into a full-blown yawn. "Alright," she conceded. "But be gentle with them, and don't wake them."

"I won't," Eugene promised, as he took the girls - their Isabelle and Annabelle. Isabelle and Annabelle, the names sounded so lovely to Cinderella now that she wanted to whisper them lovingly over and over again - out of her arms and, with a whispered goodnight to Cinderella, carried them from the room.

Now she was alone. All alone in her room.

All alone unless she was right about the truth behind her miraculous and inexplicable recovery.

"Godmother," Cinderella called out softly, her voice trembling just a little. "Godmother, are you there?"

"You're very perceptive, my child," said the fairy godmother as she appeared in front of Cinderella, looking down upon her from just beyond the foot of the bed.

Cinderella smiled. "It wasn't hard to guess where a miracle might have come from." Her smile faded. "It was you, wasn't it? You...you saved my life, and Annabelle's life as well." She had never been more terrified than she had been then. She had tried to hide it from Eugene, but it had honestly been worse than anything that Grace had done or tried to do to her. She had been going to die and no one, not her prince or her friends or anyone, could rescue her. She was going to die and leave her daughters motherless. She was going to die...and she couldn't be certain that Eugene wouldn't turn his back on the girls as he had turned his back on Philippe before. She had been terrified and dying and now...now she was alive with two beautiful girls and it was all thanks to her fairy godmother.

The fairy godmother beamed. "Well, I couldn't let your story end so quickly, could I dear? Remember what I told you: I can only act to help you when there is no hope, and I'm afraid that...well, best not think about it. It's all averted, and behind you now. No need to consider what might have been."

"But I do need to thank you, so much, for everything," Cinderella said. "You've changed my life, saved my life, again. Before, and now this...I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Nonsense, child, you do very well without me. Most of the time," said the fairy godmother. "And besides, I can't claim all the credit. I only saved your life today."

Cinderella blinked, and her brow furrowed just a little. "I don't understand."  
"I told you, my dear, that your fairy godmother can only act on your behalf," she said. "I did nothing for little Annabelle."

"Then...does that mean...?"

The fairy godmother nodded. "Your little dears have fairy godmothers all their own. You will never see them, or meet them, or know their names but they will be there, watching over them always."

Cinderella found that there were tears in her ears. She delicately wiped them away. "I don't know whether I'm more blessed or my girls are."

"You are an extraordinary young woman, my dear," her fairy godmother said. "Is it any wonder that fairies attended on the birth of your children to see if they, too, will be extraordinary?"

"Thank you," Cinderella said. "Thank you...thank you all."

For she was alive, and she was a princess still, and she was the mother to two adorable daughters who had fairies watching over them.

In this moment, nothing at all could detract from her joy.


	31. Epilogue

Epilogue

It had seemed a little strange to Cinderella to find out that, in a palace where so many rooms and their purposes seemed fixed in place by august tradition, there was no one official royal nursery. Eugene had explained before the birth - as they were preparing a room to serve as same - that this was because the past kings and queens of Armorique had had inconsistent views on how close they wanted their children, and how much they wanted to do with them and their upbringing. Some had kept their offspring close, others had preferred to leave them in the hands of servants as much as possible. Cinderella was definitely in the former camp, as it turned out had been Eugene's mother the late Queen Isabelle, and so the large room on the second floor down from the top of the Queen's Tower - which Cinderella learned had been Eugene's nursery - had been renovated and re-furnished to serve as nursery for her darling girls. The walls were painted in baby blue, blue too the curtains hanging on either side of the large, airy windows which at present were opened to admit plenty of sunlight. A lot of Eugene's childhood furniture had already been taken for Philippe's room, and so Cinderella and Eugene had supervised the refurnishing of the nursery in the weeks leading up to her delivery: a walnut toy-chest, currently empty but probably not for much longer; two oak wardrobes, which might seem a little excessive but wouldn't remain so once the girls became old enough to be picky about sharing their clothes; a set of bookshelves which were mostly empty, but already had some well-worn books of nursery rhymes and fairy tales to be read to the children; a settee, some tables and chairs for visitors, or for the nurses (whose rooms were downstairs on the floor below) to take the weight off their feet. The magnificent crib - they shared at present - sat in the very centre of the spacious room, a birch four-poster with soft blue furnishings, including hangings that could completely enclose the crib proper, much like Cinderella's own bed in miniature.

It was around the crib that everyone was gathered now: Cinderella, Eugene, His Majesty the King and Princess Frederica. Only Madame Clairval stood apart, a few steps back from the others, while Cinderella held Philippe in her hands and dangled him on the edge of the crib so that he could look down upon his sisters.

"These are your sisters, Philippe," Cinderella said. "Isabelle and Annabelle." She spoke softly and gently, so as not to disturb the sleeping Annabelle. Isabelle was awake, but quietly so, she squirmed and fussed but did not cry, as if she were aware the to do so would wake her sister.

Philippe stared down at the two girls for a while, and it seemed that Isabelle was staring up at him with wide, childish eyes. Cinderella bent down, so that her head was almost as low as Philippe's, and smiled down upon her girl. "Isabelle, this is your brother Philippe."

Isabelle reached upwards, as though she were trying to touch him.

"When will they be old enough to play with me?"

Cinderella laughed softly. "Not for a little while yet, I'm afraid." She didn't mention that by the time the girls were old enough Philippe was unlikely to still want to play with them. "Please, always be kind to them, Philippe, and look after them if they need it." She was a little afraid that it would be easy for Philippe to grow up jealous of his sisters, particularly of Isabelle, who would inherit the throne of Armorique one day despite being four years younger than him. She wanted them to love one another, as a family; that was why she had introduced the girls to him as his sisters, not his half-sisters: she didn't want to put any walls between Philippe and the girls if she could avoid it.

"Don't worry, Stepmother, I'll protect them. Like a knight."

Cinderella kissed him on the cheek. "I'm sure you will. A brave knight defending the castle of his princesses."

It had been a few days now since the girls were born - the doctors were amazed that Cinderella was able to get up so soon after her ordeal, but it seemed her fairy godmother had not only saved her life but also sped up her recovery - but the King wore the same bewitched and foolish fond expression that he worn since he had come up to Cinderella's bedroom to first behold his grand-daughters. All tension and weariness seemed to drain from his face in their presence, replaced with a smile and a gleam in his eyes. He was leaning on the side of the crib opposite Cinderella and Philippe, and with one hand he sought to attract Isabelle's attention.

"Coo-ee," he said, wiggling his fingers in front of her. "Coo-ee."

Isabelle grabbed at his finger with both hands, and tried to put it into her mouth (it was for this reason that Cinderella was not wearing and had decided that she would not wear her rings in the nursery, in case either of the girls accidently swallowed them and choked on them), which only made His Majesty chuckled fondly.

"There were times I feared this day would never come," he said wistfully. "Or at least that it would come too late for me."

"A little melodramatic, father, don't you think?" Eugene asked, fondly but with just a touch of weariness in his voice, as though he had hoped that this old argument had been forever put behind them. "You are not so old, and nor are we."

"When you are my age, however old I may or may not be, then you will understand but not before," the King said, allowing just a touch of sharpness to enter his, but not so much as to trouble Isabelle or disturb the sleep of Annabelle. "This palace rang with joy and laughter when you were young. I still remember some of the mischief that you and Etienne Gerard used to get up to as though it were yesterday."

Cinderella smiled as she tried to imagine Eugene and especially Etienne getting up to mischief.

"And yet the years passed," the King continued. "You grew. Your mother left. And the laughter died and this place came to see more like a mausoleum than a home. More recently it has seemed a place of peril as much as of warmth. I hope to see it became a place of joy and laughter once again."

"There may not have been much laughter, your majesty," Cinderella said. "But I've never found this palace to be devoid of joy."

The King glanced up at her for a moment, the smile still on his face, and nodded before he went back to fussing over his slightly older granddaughter.

"I'm not sure," he said. "If you will regret not having sons or not. Annabelle you will eventually lose to marriage and even Isabelle, heir to the throne though she is, you may find that..."

"I hope that they'll still find room in their hearts and lives for us, even after they're wed," Cinderella replied. "And who knows, there's still time for a boy or two." She smiled at Eugene. Strangely he did not smile back, but looked a little awkward and would not meet her eyes.

Frederica cleared her throat. "They are very beautiful, aren't they? With the permission of all concerned may I...may I hold Princess Isabelle?"

Cinderella glanced at Eugene again, and this time he did meet her eyes, and must have picked up on Cinderella's willingness because he said, "Yes, of course princess."

"Thank you," Frederica said, as she bent over the foot of the crib and reached in. "Excuse me a moment, your majesty," she said, as she picked up the wriggling Isabelle in her hands and lifted her up into the air, gripping the infant princess under the arms as Isabelle gurgled and reached out for this new face suddenly appearing in her life.

Frederica raised Isabelle up and held her close. So close in fact that Isabelle was about to reach out and touch Frederica's face, running her fingers along the Norman princess' fine, sculpted features. Frederica giggled for a moment, before her face took on a look of terrible earnestness. "You are strong," she said. "You are brave, you are wise." And having said so, she put Isabelle back down in her crib again. "Your daughter tickles."

Cinderella chuckled briefly. "What was that you said to her?"

"Something nanny used to tell me every night before bed," Frederica said. "You are strong, you are brave, you are wise. It was almost like a charm, if she said it often enough it would come true." She grinned. "I'd say it worked rather well, wouldn't you?"

Cinderella let out a single giggle. "Yes, I would. I'll try and remember that. You are strong, you are brave, you are wise."

"Speaking of wise choices," Frederica said. "Have you given any thought to godparents yet?"

Cinderella put Philippe down on the floor, and covered her mouth with one hand. "We haven't even chosen their middle names yet, let alone godparents."

"Has anyone else asked you for it as brazenly as I have?" Frederica asked.

Cinderella stood up. "Well, no."

"Well then," Frederica said. "Clearly nobody else wants it the way I do."

At this point, Isabelle's wriggling and squirming finally woke up Annabelle, who started to cry.

"Oh, there there," Cinderella murmured, reaching into the crib and scooping Annabelle up in her arms before she could start her sister crying too. She cradled Annabelle in her arms and rocked her gently back and forth. "There, there my little angel. It's alright. It's alright. I'm here, and you're safe in my arms. You're safe and loved. You are so loved." Gently, softly, Cinderella began to sing.

"A dream is a wish your heart makes,

When you're fast asleep..."

* * *

Far from Armorique, east of the Seine, on the north-east of Burgundy, on the extreme east of the region of Gallia, lay the tiny principality of the Franche-Comte. Culturally and linguistically Gallic, the principality nevertheless lay under the sway of the Holy Roman Empire, though due to the small size and general insignificance of his demesne the Prince of the Franche-Comte never ranked amongst the Empire's great magnates and elector princes.

In this small principality, in the midst of a wood both wild and perilous to the unwary traveller, sat a castle atop a high hill, which rose above the trees even as a prince rises above the lot of common men. As well as being as fine an example of gothic architecture as could be found west of the Rhine, the castle was also ideally situated for defence, with a steep drop on all sides and only a single bridge to allow access.

In a high place in this high castle, a young woman sat in a window seat, her legs tucked up beneath her as the light shone in through the window to alight upon her and on the book which she held in her hands. She was a beautiful brunette with soft, petite features and big, striking, somewhat doe-like hazel eyes which, to an outside observer, might have seemed to convey a certain resignation, or perhaps weariness. She was all alone, and being alone she was modestly dressed and unadorned: her dress was a pretty but not ornate blend of pinks and reds, with sleeves ending in frills below the elbow; her hair was bound up in a simple ponytail, and only a wedding ring, a simple band of gold, glistened on her finger. She wore said ring upon her left hand.

She was alone, undisturbed and unremarked upon, troubling no one.

The library was hers, given to her when she was but a guest here, and it was her refuge, her place when she did not wish to be disturbed.

Belle's lips parted, and a sigh escaped them.

The doors opened loudly, and Adam strode in. His boots squeaked even his footsteps thumped on the floor.

"Belle," he said, his features twisted by a hopeless sympathy.

"Are they gone?" she asked.

"Yes, but that's not why I'm here. A messenger has arrived from Vienna. The Emperor is asking me to go to Armorique on a diplomatic mission...and I want you to come with me."

The End

* * *

 _Author's Note: A couple of you thought that the previous chapter might have been the end of the story. That wasn't something that had occurred to me before, but you made me think and I realised that actually the last chapter would have been a perfectly good place to end the story, possibly a better place than any other; showing Cinderella as a mother could be left entirely for the next story along. The fact was, however, that I hadn't actually ended the story, and so I threw this little epilogue together with a blatant sequel hook (as discussed previously, the next story will a be Beauty and the Beast crossover in which Belle and Adam meet Cinderella) to wrap everything up._

 _As excited as I am for the next story (and I am for a wide range of reasons), and as much as I hope those of you who have stuck with me thus far will continue to do so, I can't guarantee exactly when I'll get started on it. One of the consequences of my rapid updating of these Rose and the Crown stories has been a number of increasingly narked-off reviews on my Harry Potter/ Game of Thrones crossover demanding to know if I'm ever going to update it, so I should probably put in some work on that before I do anything else._

 _I want to thank each and every one of you who left a review. I rarely respond even in notes, I never respond in person (until I started leaving reviews on a RWBY fic called RWBY: Destiny of Remnant I had no idea that was something that authors did; I don't do it because I'm not sure that you'd want me to) but I do read them all and I do take them into account. Back when this story started I was very worried about how Anne would be received, and whether I would be able to distinguish her from Serena before her; your reviews, in which you all told me how sympathetic you found her - more sympathetic, indeed, than I had consciously intended - pointed the way to a direction I could take her that was unique, making her as much victim as villain and ending her story with escape rather than defeat. Just one example of how your reviews have helped me along._

 _I like this story, but I don't think it's quite as good as the first; while I managed avoid the worst excesses of my imagination - I'm not sure why I ever considered the idea of Eugene cheating on Cinderella - I feel as though it doesn't hang together quite as well as the first one, and could possibly have done with more up-front planning and reflection between chapters. Nevertheless, I did have a good time writing it and I have so many ideas that I mean to continue. I hope you'll join me._


	32. Sequel Announcement

The sequel to this story is now out. You can find the Rose and the Crown: The Concert of Europe under my stories! I hope you enjoy!


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